Let's Be Strong
by Apollo888
Summary: Series 2 beginning at the concert in Episode 4, then going somewhere else. Strength and bravery are not only shown on the battlefield, or in the face of adversity. One must be strong to go after what one wants. One must be brave to bear the consequences. The sequel to Upon a Midnight Clear.
1. With No One Else

**Author****'****s**** Note:**As with all stories worth telling, we begin in canon, and shall soon take a different path. This particular chapter, and its prequel, **Upon a Midnight**** Clear** are dedicated to _whatifthisstormends_ on tumblr, as it was my honour to write for her as her 2013 M/M Fandom Secret Santa. _Grazie Mille_ for now allowing me to share your gift with the world.

Thanks also go to _patsan _for literally making this story possible, and to _Willa Dedalus_ and _Lala Kate_ for constant inspiration and motivation, even when they don't know they are providing it.

* * *

**Chapter 1: With No One Else**

**King's Cross Station, London, England, April 1918**

"We're over here, Sir," William called, walking briskly to the correct train car.

"Slow down, William," Matthew smiled. "The train won't leave without us. You'll be back with Daisy by nightfall."

William looked away bashfully. Matthew patted him on the back and walked up the steps into the train. They found their cabin easily and both of them sat down gratefully.

"Did you…" William hesitated. "Did you get a chance to see Miss Swire, Sir?"

Matthew looked out the window. "Yes," he said softly.

The train whistle shrieked and the late afternoon train to York pulled out of the station.

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1918**

Edith nodded at Mary and began playing the song on the piano. Mary looked out into the audience, trying to calm her shaking hands and still her rapidly beating heart. It did not help.

It was the uniforms, she decided. It was always the uniforms. The dull brown colour, the row of buttons, the same cut, the same style. If she focused on the uniforms closely enough, she could picture him easily. At first, this was a help to her. She could go about her duties each day and tend to the wounded, comforted in the knowledge that she was helping, that he wasn't them so he wasn't hurt and he was safe somewhere far away.

The absurdity of her delusion came crashing down yesterday when Edith gave her the news. Mary's foolish ignorance was a cold burden in the face of the harsh reality that struck her with enough force to knock her over.

_Matthew's missing_.

He wasn't safe anymore. He probably never was. He wasn't here, but that didn't mean he wasn't hurt, and it certainly did not mean he wasn't in danger. She felt useless. Her prayers every evening. Her good luck toy dog. Her fierce resolve that she would sacrifice her true feelings if it meant he would be happy, even with another woman. None of it did any good.

_He was on patrol and he just sort of…vanished_.

As Mary took her cue and began singing the song, the uniforms that faced her were no longer a comfort.

"_Sometimes when I feel bad, and things look blue…"_

He was out there somewhere, wearing the same uniform, and Lord only knew what condition he was in. He could be as badly wounded as some of the men now looking back at her. Or worse.

"_I wish a pal I had, say one like you…"_

Her blasted letter was as clear to her now as the day she posted it.

'_Please be glad for me, as I will always be for you. Your affectionate cousin, Mary.' _

Affectionate, indeed. So affectionate that she tore his heart out and drove him away to join the Army, then when he had rebuilt himself with wonderful Lavinia, she wrote to him just to say she had found someone else.

"_Someone within my heart to build a throne. Someone who'd never part to call my own."_

'That's over. Finished.' Mary had told her Granny, boasting almost about what a great life she would have with Richard. 'He's rich and getting richer.' Of course that's all that mattered, she told herself. Money. It was the only thing she was entitled to. She had lost her right to happiness years ago.

"_If you were the only girl in the world and I were the only boy…"_

Mary was grateful that the men took up the chorus with her. She was struggling and did not know how she would be able to get through the song without breaking down in tears. 'I don't think I owe him anything' she had told her Papa when he had implored her to write to him. Owe him? She owed him more than was in her power to repay. She owed him a lifetime of love and happiness and children and memories and all the things that they should have had before her own stupidity had cost them all of it.

"_Nothing else would matter in the world today. We could go on living in the same old way…"_

Mary's voice wavered as she fought on, choking out the words. She was cursed. She was being punished for her horrible mistakes from years ago and now her wickedness had reached out and claimed the one person who deserved to be spared more than anyone else. If only she could see him once more. If only she could have one last chance to tell him everything. To tell him all he deserved to hear. That she loved him, had never stopped loving him, would never stop loving him. And if she had an ounce of the strength and bravery that he did, she would have accepted him immediately back then, would have fought for him, would never have let him leave that damn Garden Party in 1914 when the world changed forever…

"_A garden…"_

Mary's mouth hung open but no words came. Edith realized something was amiss and stopped playing. Some of the men continued to sing before seeing that no one else was continuing.

Matthew walked slowly into the room, his eyes locked on her, never leaving her as he came past the seated men and into the aisle. William followed behind him, his eyes on Daisy standing at the back of the room.

Mary continued to stare, afraid to blink as that may make him disappear. Slowly the rest of the crowd turned to see whatever she was staring at. Cora, Robert, Violet, Sybil, Edith, the other soldiers, they all looked at this blond haired, blue eyed man standing in the aisle beaming as if he had not a care in the world.

Silence became murmurs. Murmurs became gasps. Gasps became happy, relieved laughter as her Papa went into the aisle and embraced Matthew.

"Thank God," Mary whispered, finally allowing herself to close her eyes in a thankful prayer.

"My dear boy," she heard the Earl exclaim as he looked at Matthew adoringly. "My very dear boy."

Papa was never one for eloquence, but Mary could barely imagine words now either. She looked at her cousin and smiled, grinned widely, ecstatic that he was here. She didn't care how it had happened; barely even cared if this was all a cruel illusion or joke. She kept her eyes on him, smiling and committing his thin face to memory, adding the image to the dozens of others that helped her sleep at night.

"Come on, don't stop for me," Matthew huffed, his cheeks flushing red. He looked about for someone to save him from being the centre of attention. His eyes darted here and there, finding no assistance, until he settled back on her.

"_I would say such wonderful things to you…"_

His smile was confident, his stride assured as he stepped down the aisle and was suddenly next to her. Had she ever heard him sing before? She couldn't remember. But hearing his voice now she knew she would never be able to forget it, never be able to go without it. She wet her lips and lifted her voice again, smiling as his eyes seemed to plead for her to join him.

"_There would be such wonderful things to do…"_

Edith picked up the tune once again as Matthew turned to face the audience. Mary looked away from him momentarily as the men joined in once again. They finished the song, singing loudly, gratefully, with a joy that came from being among friends and family, a feeling that was so often taken for granted before, but now was so rare it was a treasure to be cherished when they were lucky enough to have it again.

"_If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy…"_

The crowd applauded merrily. Matthew blushed again and nodded to them in acknowledgment. William caught Daisy's eye and they shared a smile. Mary turned and looked at Matthew, less than an arm's length from her now. He had lost weight, she noticed, and there were slightly dark rims below his eyes. His hair was not quite as well coiffed as normal, and his uniform was somewhat frayed around the edges. He never looked more handsome, she concluded.

* * *

"Somehow we got lost and then we were trapped behind some Germans for three days, and when we got out of that, we stumbled into a field dressing station and we were immediately admitted. But we weren't in any danger, so they didn't inform our unit," Matthew recounted, his voice calm and even.

"Well they should've jolly well told us when you got back to base," Robert grunted, relief in his voice.

"I hope you weren't really worried," Matthew said, his words directed at the Earl but his eyes darting over to Mary before looking away.

"Oh, you know us. We like to be sure of our hero at the front," Robert smiled.

Mrs. Hughes interrupted and summoned the Earl to see Cousin Violet away for the evening. With Robert gone, Matthew shifted nervously, realizing that despite the full room, he was now alone with Mary.

Mary's pulse sped up as he looked at her. The many desperate thoughts that ran through her mind less than an hour ago when she thought he was gone and all the things she vowed to do if he somehow came back were now bombarding her. She opened her mouth to speak, and propriety and duty again defeated her desire and longing.

"What will you do for the rest of your leave?" she asked, focusing on a safe topic.

"Well I've learned that Mother isn't here," Matthew answered.

"Yes," Mary replied, her stomach churning at the implication. Cousin Isobel was gone following her row with Mama, so there was no reason for him to stay at Downton. His likely destination was obvious and Mary blinked as she tried not to show her disappointment.

"I imagine you'll run up to London and see Lavinia, then?" she said quietly.

"No," Matthew replied right away. He paused as Mary's eyes widened in surprise. "I had time to see her already when we were transferring trains in London."

Mary frowned in bewilderment, then recovered and kept her face neutral. He already saw Lavinia? Transferring trains took mere hours. Why would he not go back to London to spend the remaining days of his leave with his fiancée? He had delivered the message to the family that he was alive. There was no reason for him to stay.

"Ah," she answered, afraid to say anything else that may betray her happiness at this development.

"I asked your Papa if I could stay here, actually," Matthew continued carefully. "There's no need to go back to Crawley House and be alone." Matthew blinked as he realized his choice of words. "That is, I mean I would be here visiting the family for the rest of my leave in any event, so it seems more efficient to stay here. Your Papa agreed. I believe Bates already brought my things upstairs."

"Well it will be good to have you around," Mary replied, mulling over each word. Her heartbeat was racing now. Matthew was back. He was alive. And he was staying over for the rest of his leave. He would be mere steps away from her at all times. She was filled with anticipation, joy and fear all at once.

"I got your letter about Carlisle," Matthew stated plainly.

Mary silently cursed. Her earlier thoughts dissipated as her current situation blanketed her again. They weren't alone, the two of them. They were still Mary and Matthew, and all the things that she knew stood between them were still there, War or not. She composed herself despite her heart breaking a bit more.

"I hope you'll approve. I know you don't like him much now…" she began.

"I hardly know him," Matthew replied. "But I'm sure I'll like him when I do." He spat out the words as if they were poison. "That's if he's good to you. If he's not, he'll have me to answer to." Matthew looked at her intently as he uttered the last phrase.

Mary smiled, her heart soaring. She could not decipher his meaning. Was he being a concerned cousin? A jealous ex-suitor? Or something more? She realized she didn't care. She continued to smile at him, content that he felt something for her welfare. Regardless of what his intention was, he thought of her, wanted her to be happy with Carlisle. Even though she knew she never would be, the fact that he still cared enough to want that for her made her feel lightheaded.

Matthew looked away from her momentarily and his vision was filled with the convalescing soldiers. Soldiers in wheelchairs. Soldiers with bandages around their limbs or around their heads. Soldiers clearly wounded in battle and wounded still now. Matthew blinked several times. His face dropped. His breathing quickened.

"What's the matter?" Mary asked, catching his change in mood immediately. "You suddenly look rather haunted."

"I am," Matthew retorted, closing his eyes to calm himself. He looked up at Mary, his eyes apologizing for his rudeness.

"You see when I'm here, nothing seems real. I know I have to go back and," he swallowed. "That thought stays with me always."

Mary frowned. His eyes betrayed him. They always did when he was around her. She imagined that she could look into his blue eyes and see everything he wanted to reveal to her, and even much of what he didn't. She looked into his eyes now and saw what she never wanted to see in him – fear.

"Take care of yourself, please," Mary said, her voice almost begging him. She instinctively reached for his hand and the contact caused both of them to blink and stare at each other. "It really can't be long now," she said firmly, though the words seemed to ring hollow in her mind.

Matthew gave her a brave smile and nodded. "Excuse me, Mary," he said quietly.

Mary nodded and let him walk away, watching as he crossed the room and greeted Sybil, Edith and Cora. There was still so much she wanted to tell him, so much she needed to say. She held back her desire once again, convincing herself that it was enough that she would get to spend the rest of his leave with him. That would be enough, she thought. It was more than she deserved.

* * *

Mary smiled as a familiar face came into the room.

"Hello," she said cheerfully. "What brings you by the wards?"

"I was looking for you," Matthew answered. "I didn't know if you were allowed breaks or when your shift was over. I thought we could take a walk around the grounds."

"That sounds lovely," Mary smiled, grateful for his kindness. He must be either bored or feeling a sense of obligation to spend time with her. She didn't care what the explanation was. It was enough that he had sought her out. "Sybil is relieving me in an hour. Shall I meet you in the Great Hall?"

"Perfect," Matthew bowed. He left the room, walking briskly towards his bedroom so he could change. He took several deep breaths along the way, trying to muster the resolve he would need.

"How long do you have left?" Mary asked. Their walk naturally took them back to their tree and their bench, both of them steered there without thinking.

"Two days," Matthew replied, motioning for her to take a seat, then joining her. "My train leaves the day after tomorrow.

"I see," Mary said. She knew he did not have much time, but she was hoping for more than two days. He had just shown up the night before. She scolded herself. How could she be so selfish? In two days' time she would still be at Downton in safety. In two days' time Matthew was going back to hell.

"I wanted to tell you something, Mary," Matthew said, looking down at the ground.

"Yes?" Mary asked, looking at him curiously.

"I released her," he said quietly.

"What?" Mary blurted out.

Matthew looked up, focusing his eyes on her, his gaze intense, his voice serious.

"I released Lavinia," he repeated. "When I was in London yesterday, before coming here, I met with her and told her I could no longer be engaged to her. It's over."

"You called off your engagement?" Mary asked, not believing what he just said, nor believing the words coming out of her own mouth.

"I did," Matthew nodded.

"I don't understand," Mary frowned in confusion. "You were at the front, you haven't seen her in months. What could have changed in that time for you to make such a grave decision?"

"I opened my eyes," Matthew said, his eyes remaining on hers. "It wasn't fair to her. I wasn't being fair to her, just as I wasn't being fair to myself. I released her so she could have a better life, find a better man."

"She had a better man," Mary answered, biting her bottom lip when she realized what she said. "What I mean is that I don't follow. What was so unfair that you had to release her?"

Matthew looked away, his eyes darting here and there searchingly. He turned back to her, taking a deep breath and composing himself.

"It was unfair for me to keep her bound to a commitment that never should have been made," he explained. "To stay engaged to her would have doomed her to a terrible fate, and even though I am far from a perfect man, I could at least do right by her, so I let her go."

"What terrible fate?" Mary asked.

"Being engaged, then one day being married to a man that…" Matthew paused, breathing deeply. "To a man that doesn't love her."

Mary gasped.

"She's a very sweet girl," Matthew continued. "She's never caused a moment's sorrow in her whole life. And for that reason she doesn't deserve sorrow or regret, and she would have had more than enough of both if she stayed with me. For as much as I would have tried, I never would have made her happy, because I never would have been happy with her, not as happy as I should be anyway."

"If you say you don't love her," Mary said slowly. "Then I suppose it's a very brave thing that you did."

"Brave?" Matthew laughed ruefully. "No, Mary, I'm not brave. Not in everything, in any event."

"Oh I don't know," Mary said, looking at her hands. "Stopping yourself from going down a path that won't make you happy takes courage. Many people would wish for such conviction."

"Then why do I feel like such a coward?" Matthew mused, looking up at the blue cloudless sky.

"In what way?" Mary frowned.

Matthew looked back at her and smiled wanly. "Forget I said it," he said forlornly. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Mary said strongly. "You aren't a coward at all. You're strong, and brave and good, and I won't send you back to God knows where in such a state of mind."

Matthew chuckled. "Still passionate, I see." His eyes twinkled at her.

"When I'm sufficiently moved," Mary agreed, blushing slightly. Why was he looking at her like that?

"What would you call someone who spent most of his time speaking his mind, both in his personal and professional life, and yet when faced with the most important thing in the world, was strangely silent? What would you call someone who yearned every day to give voice to his desires, and yet when handed the opportunity, did nothing? Who could that man be but a coward?"

"Life isn't always about what we want, Matthew," Mary said quietly. "Sometimes we can't have what we want. Sometimes we must accept that our actions have consequences and that can mean we have no right to want anything anymore."

"In another time I probably would have agreed with you," Matthew nodded. "But War has a way of putting things in perspective. When you face your own mortality each day, you begin to understand what matters and what doesn't."

"And what matters to you, Matthew?" Mary asked.

Matthew closed his eyes. His brow frowned and he swallowed hard before opening his eyes and looking at her.

"You do, Mary. You matter. You matter to me," he said.

Mary's heart leapt into her throat.

"That's very kind of you, Matthew," she whispered. "You must know that I am concerned for you. I only wish for your safe return. All of us do," she said guardedly. "But you need not worry about me. You have far more important things to be concerned about than my welfare."

"I'll always worry about you," Matthew responded. "Not because I don't think you're capable of taking care of yourself, but because I want you to be happy."

"Well you need not worry about that," Mary said, rolling her eyes.

"Of course," Matthew said regretfully. "You're engaged now. You have someone to give you a life and make you happy. I'm glad for you."

"No," Mary replied, looking out across the grounds. "I do have someone, well, more accurately someone has me, but whether I'll be happy or not remains to be seen. It's usually that way with our sort of people," Mary recovered, trying to disguise her emotion.

"Well then I'll worry about you," Matthew said with a smirk. "I'll worry about you until I know you're happy."

"Why?" Mary frowned, turning to look at him. "Whether I end up happy or not isn't your concern."

"No, I suppose it isn't," Matthew said nervously. "But all the same I do think about it."

"What about you?" Mary asked. "You said you knew you wouldn't be happy with Lavinia, nor her with you. How can you be so sure?"

Matthew's eyes widened.

"Well, it's as I said," he hesitated. "I don't love her."

"But I still don't understand," Mary shook her head. "You loved her before. What changed?"

"Nothing changed," Matthew said. "Nothing changed because I didn't love her before either. I just was too much of a coward to admit it, among other things."

"What?" Mary asked, in rather unladylike fashion.

"I never loved Lavinia," Matthew repeated. "I loved the idea of her, I suppose. She was safe, she was predictable, she was always supportive. I fell in love with the idea of having someone like that. I convinced myself that being content with a marriage that was safe and predictable was enough for me."

"And?"

"And I realized I was wrong. I don't want to just be content. I don't want to settle for safe and predictable. The War has shown me that we live on borrowed time to an extent. Life is too short to merely accept being content."

Mary frowned. "But are you so sure you'll be able to find this happiness that you seek? To give up Lavinia for a dream that you may be happier with someone else someday is rather risky, Matthew."

"It is," Matthew nodded. "And I suppose that was why I didn't do it sooner. I tried to convince myself to accept it and make the best of it. But it didn't work."

"Why not?" Mary asked. "Is it because you didn't give it enough time?"

"No," Matthew smiled at her. "I spent a considerable amount of time trying to convince myself, believe me."

"Convince yourself that you would be happy with Lavinia?"

"Yes, but I also…" Matthew stopped and looked away.

"You also what?" Mary pressed.

"I also spent years trying to convince myself that I didn't love you anymore," Matthew whispered, looking back at her. "Lavinia was supposed to help me forget about how I felt about you. But I didn't. I couldn't. It wasn't fair to her that I thought that I could replace you with someone else."

Mary's eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock.

"I don't mean to cause any problems for you," Matthew sighed. "I know it's too late for this to mean anything to you now and I've accepted that. You've moved on. You have a new suitor. But I love you, Mary. I always will. I'm convinced of it now. I've spent four years trying not to, and I've failed miserably at it. And I find that," he looked at her and sighed. "I find that I don't want to not love you."

Matthew rose from the bench quickly and nodded to her.

"I'll head back in, I think," he said. "I hope this won't make things awkward between us," he said nervously. "It's wrong to use War as an excuse, but I sometimes lie awake…out there…and I think of you. I find myself thinking about you often, and berating myself for not telling you – before. I don't…I haven't thought of…all I know is that I needed you to know."

Mary nodded and offered him a wavering smile.

"I'm very glad that you told me," Mary said quietly.

Matthew smiled and nodded and walked back to the house.

* * *

They both acted as if nothing had happened. They talked and laughed and smiled guardedly with each other, avoiding any dangerous topics or returning to Matthew's confession of the afternoon. He was usually swept up in conversation by her Papa, and for once Mary was grateful for the Earl's infatuation with his heir. She stayed close to Sybil and Edith, ensuring she was never alone with Matthew, either at the dinner table or afterwards when they came through.

But they would look at each other. They never could avoid that. He would glance over at her, hoping to watch her as she talked and laughed. She would look up at him suddenly, as if she knew his eyes were upon her and she didn't want to look away. They would catch each other staring, and would offer nervous smiles before returning to their respective conversations.

"I've been thinking of going up to London after all," he said quietly.

Mary looked up from the fireplace and blinked, realizing he was standing next to her with no one around them.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"But why?"

"I don't want to," he frowned in resignation. "But I'm a burden to you. I was selfish to say what I did and it's made you uncomfortable. This stay has been…well it's been wonderful. But I've seen everyone now and they've seen me, and it's probably best that I go and stay with friends before shipping out."

"No!" Mary said quickly. She paused and composed herself. "Please don't, not if you don't really want to. This is your home, and you should spend your leave here, instead of in a strange place. I…I'm not uncomfortable. You have to know that. I like having you here," she said quietly.

Matthew's eyes widened and he smiled. "All right, but only if you're sure."

"Of course I am," she said, putting on a brave face.

"Mary, we're going up," Cora called.

Mary nodded to Matthew briefly before turning and retiring with her Mama and her sisters.

Matthew turned and looked into the fireplace. He knew he had unfairly complicated things for her, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the fact that he had offered to leave her alone and she had implored him not to.

* * *

It was a knock. It wasn't the wind against his window or the floorboards creaking or the Big House settling in the night. It was very clearly a knock.

He went to his door quickly and opened it, his mouth falling open as the low light from the fireplace revealed who his visitor was.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, taking her by the arm and bringing her inside. He closed the door behind her and looked at her with wide eyes.

"I needed to talk to you," Mary said. "Mama had us retire early and I wasn't ready to leave you just yet."

"Someone could have seen you," he warned. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"No," Mary chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. "I've waited long enough."

"All right, what is it?"

Mary ran her hands along her arms. She forgot how much colder the Bachelor's Wing was than her side of the house.

"You're cold," Matthew frowned. He turned and went back to his bed, picking up one of the quilts and turning back.

He gasped slightly, not realizing that Mary had followed him. He handed her the quilt, swallowing at how close she was.

"Thank you," she smiled nervously, wrapping the quilt around her shoulders. Her legs wobbled a bit and she sat down on the edge of the bed. Matthew carefully sat down next to her, trying to maintain some distance despite his heart thundering in his chest. Mary was so close, sitting on his bed, and he had to still his hands with great effort.

"You said you still love me," Mary said quietly.

"Yes," Matthew acknowledged nervously. "I'm sorry if it's made you feel strange. It was never my intention to…"

"It doesn't make me feel strange," Mary said quickly.

"Oh?" Matthew blinked in surprise.

"No. Knowing that you love me, that you still love me, after all of this time, makes me feel…" Mary paused.

"Yes?"

"Blissful," she smiled. "Yes, that is how I would describe it – blissful."

Matthew grinned. "Well I'm glad for that," he replied, then his smile dropped. "I've no right to interfere with your life. I meant what I said. I'm sure I'll like Carlisle when I have a chance to…"

"Don't say his name," Mary shook her head vigorously. "I…I don't want to think about him, not when I'm with you."

"I don't want to think about him either," Matthew nodded. "But Mary…" he closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry Mary, but this doesn't change anything unfortunately. You have to know that I do love you, and you'll always have my support, but I should have told you long ago and I didn't, and the result is that you're lost to me now."

"I am," she agreed bitterly. "But it isn't because you didn't tell me before, Matthew. So I'm still very happy that you did now. It will make things easier, it will be a comfort to me in the future."

"What do you mean?" Matthew frowned. "A comfort to you during what?"

"Life," she said sadly. "As I go through the rest of my life, I'll feel better knowing that you love me, even though I don't deserve it."

"What?" he frowned again. "How can you say that, Mary? Of course you deserve it. You deserve someone to love you and to be happy and all of it. I thought that was why you were considering marriage to Sir Richard."

"No," Mary blinked, pushing her tears back down. "That isn't it."

"But why?"

"I'll tell you," Mary said bravely. "I'll tell you but you must promise not to interrupt, and you must swear to me that you'll at least give me a proper goodbye afterward. And that you'll be civil to me in front of the family."

"Be civil to you?" Matthew repeated incredulously. "Mary, what do you mean?"

"After you know, I'm afraid," she shook herself again, reaching for courage that she did not know if she had. "I'm quite sure you'll despise me, and even though I can't bear the thought, I still need to tell you, because you need to know."

Matthew studied her carefully, the firelight dancing across her face. The thin silk of her dressing gown did very little to conceal the shape of her breasts and he had to keep his focus on her face, lest she give him a well deserved slap.

"I swear to you, Mary," he whispered. "I won't interrupt. I'll give you a proper goodbye, whatever that means, and I'll always be civil to you. Please, tell me."

She told him everything. Every detail from the flirting during the Hunt, to the stolen kiss in the sitting room, to how the Turk had somehow found his way to her bedroom and all that transpired until he lay lifeless on her bed.

"I didn't love him," Mary choked out as she finished her shameful story. "I barely knew him. I suppose it was…" she cringed. "It was lust, Matthew. Or the need for excitement, or something in him that I…oh God," she sobbed.

"The precise reason doesn't make any difference," Matthew said slowly, his mind a jumble at this discovery.

"No, it doesn't. All that matters is that I've fallen. I'm, as Mama says, damaged goods," she sobbed again.

"Wait," Matthew frowned. "Is that why you're considering Carlisle's proposal? Because he's willing to look past this revelation?"

"He's not looking past it, not exactly," Mary widened her eyes, trying to stop her tears. "He found out about it on his own. But he's prepared to accept it and to give me a life, subject to certain conditions."

"Certain conditions? That sounds terribly close to blackmail."

"He's willing to guard my secret if I marry him. Truth be told, I don't have much choice in the matter. If word ever got out, every door in London would be slammed in my face."

"I see," Matthew said shortly.

"You must know though," Mary whispered, gathering all the strength she had left. "Despite everything, despite my scandal and the way I've treated you, and what will be my sham of an engagement, I've always…" she swallowed.

"You've always…" Matthew said imploringly.

"I've always loved you, Matthew. I…I still love you. I know you must not believe it because I have given you no reason to, but not accepting your proposal was the biggest mistake I've ever made, and I've been living with that ever since."

"You love me?" Matthew said in shock.

Mary nodded. "Everything you said earlier, it was all true for me as well. I tried to forget you. I tried to convince myself that you were better off with someone else, and you probably are. But, you were so brave to tell me before, and I needed you to know everything. You can't love me now that you know who I really am, but you deserve to know the real me, so you don't have to torment yourself loving someone that I'm not."

She sobbed, her hand covering her mouth. The quilt fell from her shoulders.

"Mary," Matthew whispered, reaching out and taking her hand in his. She looked up at him with wet eyes.

"I love you, Mary," Matthew said softly, leaning towards her. He stared at her lips unashamedly before looking into her eyes. "I love you. Not who others say you are. Not who you used to be. Not even who I thought you were. I love you."

He kissed her.

His lips were demanding and firm, pushing against hers and giving no quarter. Mary moaned, first in surprise, then in pleasure. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands going into his hair. He held her by the waist, pulling her closer and darting his tongue between her lips. Mary opened her mouth to permit him entry and his tongue caressed hers. He held her for several moments, enveloping her in warmth, his kisses setting her skin delightfully on fire.

His hands moved. One slid around her waist and up her back, drawing small circles and causing her to shiver. The other moved to her front, across her stomach and pausing at the tie of her robe.

He pulled back, his eyes blazing, dark and needy. His breath was short, as was hers, and he swallowed, staring at her.

"Mary," he gasped. "Tell me to stop and I will."

She nodded quickly, shutting her eyes to calm herself before she opened them again, her need reflecting his own.

"You know now that I'm not…" she struggled. "I wish I could be…"

Matthew nodded in understanding. He smiled at her, a combination of reassurance and something more primal in his gaze.

"This will sound very rude of me, but I don't care," he whispered. He pressed his lips to her cheek to emphasize the point. "I don't care about your past, Mary. I should have given you a chance to tell me back then but I know I don't care now. I don't know what the future holds and I don't know if I can come back to you, but I…"

Mary moved forward and kissed him firmly. His arms tightened around her, pushing his chest against hers. She gasped into his mouth at the feeling of him deliciously close to her. She had never felt like this before.

"I don't know what future I can give you, Matthew," she said, looking into his eyes. "But tonight, if you want me, you can have me. We can…we can have this."

He grinned and kissed her. Their hands moved at the same time, clutching and grabbing at each other, untying their robes, pushing silk away, undoing buttons and discarding clothing. Matthew's shirt fell to the floor, joining Mary's dressing gown. His hand clutched at the silk of her thin nightgown, bunching it across her thigh.

"Mary," he sighed into her lips. His arousal blazed and he desperately held himself back.

She moved her hand from his back and down his arm, resting it over top of his hand against her leg. She kissed his cheek, and licked his ear, her breath ragged.

"I'm yours," she whispered, moving his hand with hers encouragingly. "I'll always be yours."

She lifted her hips slightly and he moved her nightgown up her legs and across her stomach, his fingers brushing against her knickers and across her bare back. She continued to kiss him and gasped as both of his hands brought her nightgown above her breasts and to her shoulders.

Mary lifted her arms, breaking contact with his face just long enough for him to take her nightgown off completely and drop it to the floor. He pulled her against him and they were skin to skin for the first time in their lives, her breasts pushed against his firm chest, his hands caressing her bare back, causing gooseflesh to flare delightfully across her skin. Her hands roamed his broad back, moving boldly downward. Her fingers spread across the swell of his buttocks.

Matthew pushed her back into the soft blankets. His weight was comforting over her, bathing her in warmth as he kissed her neck and shoulder. Mary moaned in pleasure, her hands clutching his back as he moved upon her. His hand slid down her side and across her thigh, moving her leg to the side slowly.

Mary gasped loudly as she felt him against her, the silk of her knickers and the cotton of his pyjamas doing nothing to conceal his arousal, nor hers. His mouth kissed her breast, his tongue licking her skin, causing her to arch her back, and as he continued to love her with his mouth, she cried out.

Her hand moved into his hair, holding him tight against her as he licked, sucked and teased. He moved to her other breast and repeated the same delightful attention and she whimpered. Her mind leaped with the knowledge that she had never done this before, never felt this before, and that this feeling would always be theirs, this moment would always be his, that Matthew would still be her first in so many incredible ways.

Mary's skin was warm and her desire was overpowering. She gasped for air as her hands moved down his sides and clutched his pyjamas. Matthew stopped his movements and lifted up, looking at her face searchingly.

Mary looked up at him with dark eyes and nodded slightly, her lips parted. Matthew held himself above her on his arms, his hands spread out to either side of her. He lifted his hips and Mary moved her hands down and he was suddenly naked against her, his legs kicking his pyjamas off the end of the bed.

Her hands caressed his bare bottom, feeling the firm muscle of his thighs, his back and his stomach. She nervously brought her hands around to his front and paused, looking up at him in wonder.

Matthew nodded slightly and she reached down between them, her eyes staying on his. Her fingers wrapped around him and she gasped. Matthew's eyes closed as she stroked him. Her pulse was racing and her breathing was ragged as she tried desperately to understand what she was doing and how to give him pleasure to comfort him when she would have to bid him goodbye again.

Matthew's hand moved down her side and his fingers curled around the band of her knickers. Mary bit her lip and stilled her hand.

"Mary," he gasped, control slipping from him quickly. "We can stop if you want to."

Mary shook her head vigorously. Keeping his eyes on her for any sign of alarm or discomfort, Matthew eased her knickers down. Mary moved her legs to assist him and she gasped and swallowed when they came back into contact, pressed against each other.

Her hand moved on him again and he bit his lip at the sensation. He held himself above her, watching her, allowing her to do as she wished. Matthew willed his eyes to remain open despite the mounting pleasure consuming him. He wanted to remember her this way always, her hair spread across the pillow, her eyes dark and filled with desire for him, and her chest rising and falling with her shallow breaths while they loved each other.

"Matthew," she breathed, removing her hand from him. "Darling."

She nodded, holding her breath as he leaned forward. He slid against her, barely entering her. They both cried out at the contact and Matthew stopped himself, gritting his teeth. She felt incredible around him.

Mary brought her hands to his buttocks again, keeping her eyes on him. Her legs spread around his hips and she pulled him forward. Her eyes shut and she called his name as he plunged inside of her.

Matthew went as slowly as he could, which became increasingly difficult as Mary continued to moan under him. She clutched his back and brought him down against her, kissing his shoulder, his cheek and finally his lips as he continued to thrust. She came apart and cried against his neck, hugging him fiercely to her. Matthew followed shortly after, pushing hard into her and holding himself still. She cried out and another wave of pleasure overtook her as she felt him release.

Matthew turned on to his back, taking her with him, holding her against his heaving chest as they both tried to calm themselves. He kissed the top of her head, then her forehead and she leaned up and kissed his lips, lying down against him and holding him close.

"Are you all right?" he breathed.

"Very much," she laughed contentedly. "I am very much all right."

She turned on to her front, her warm skin brushed teasingly against his. She looked at him and smiled.

"And what about you?"

Matthew grinned at her, his arms wrapping across her bare back.

"I cannot recall a happier moment in all my life," he laughed.

They parted soon after, with Mary promising they would talk again about all that still was left to say between them. She returned to her room and buried herself beneath her heavy blankets, the memory of Matthew's touch and kisses all over her body causing her to shiver in delight. He had one last day at Downton before leaving, and she vowed to make it as wonderful as possible. Thoughts blazed in her mind as she closed her eyes to try and sleep the remaining hours before Anna would wake her. They would have breakfast together, then perhaps go riding or for a walk down to the Village. They could either have lunch at a café or at Crawley House before spending the afternoon talking or reading. Dinner would be with the family, then she would find a way to sneak him into her bedroom so they could make love before he left the next morning. She almost giggled at the thought. A man in her bedroom had almost led to her ruin, and now she was plotting to get another one in. She just needed to find the right man, apparently.

She was surely mad because she could not stop thinking of endless possibilities. She would sack Carlisle, that was certain. Let him publish her secret. The one person who mattered the most knew all about it now, and he still loved her. They could be engaged over his next leave, perhaps married by next Christmas, and if she was a fallen woman in the eyes of Society, so be it. She could never be that in his eyes. He had told her so, with his kisses and his love, and his words of assurance when she left to go back to her bedroom.

"_I love you, Mary. You've lived your life, and I've lived mine. And now it's time we lived them together."_

None of it mattered anymore. The War. Her scandal. Her family's possible reaction when she would tell them. The branding she may receive from her so-called friends. None of it was important. She knew what mattered now. He mattered. They mattered. With all they had been through, there was no use caring about anything beyond that.

They were Mary and Matthew. And finally, after everything, they were together in love.


	2. I Want You Very Much

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1918**

She was surely mad because she could not stop thinking of endless possibilities. She would sack Carlisle, that was certain. Let him publish her secret. The one person who mattered the most knew all about it now, and he still loved her. They could be engaged over his next leave, perhaps married by next Christmas, and if she was a fallen woman in the eyes of Society, so be it. She could never be that in his eyes. He had told her so, with his kisses and his love, and his words of assurance when she left to go back to her bedroom.

"_I love you, Mary. You've lived your life, and I've lived mine. And now it's time we lived them together."_

None of it mattered anymore. The War. Her scandal. Her family's possible reaction when she would tell them. The branding she may receive from her so-called friends. None of it was important. She knew what mattered now. He mattered. They mattered. With all they had been through, there was no use caring about anything beyond that.

They were Mary and Matthew. And finally, after everything, they were together in love.

**Chapter 2: I Want You. Very Much.**

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1918**

Anna came into the room and frowned. The curtains were drawn back already. She quickly became nervous, thinking that her Mistress would scold her for not drawing the curtains last night, but then she was certain she had. Anna was further confused at the sight of Lady Mary's bed. The bedcovers were thrown back and the pillows were strewn about the headboard. More alarmingly, Lady Mary wasn't in it.

Anna walked cautiously around the bed, wondering what on Earth was going on. Lady Mary was not a morning person. Lady Mary never woke up this early. Lady Mary often scolded her for coming up too early and waking her too soon. Lady Mary usually told her to leave after opening the curtains and to not come back until Lady Mary rang for her when she was ready to get dressed.

Anna blinked and started slightly as a wide awake Lady Mary came walking out of her dressing closet.

"Good morning, Anna," she said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Milady," Anna replied. "You're awake."

"Yes, I wanted to get a head start on the day. I think I'll wear the plaid coat and grey skirt, and I'll need my leather boots."

"Yes, Milady," Anna nodded, going to retrieve the items, together with Lady Mary's slip, blouse, gloves and hat. When she came back into the room, Lady Mary was already seated at her vanity, looking carefully over her jewellery. Anna laid out the garments on the bed in the order she would be dressing her Mistress.

"_A garden of Eden just made for two, with nothing to mar our joy,"_

Anna frowned and looked over at her Mistress. Mary had picked out a brooch and was holding an earring up to her earlobe to judge whether she wanted to wear it. She shook her head quickly and put it down, diving back into her jewellery box to look for another set.

Anna shook her head and went back to organizing her Mistress' clothes. Anna looked around the room, wondering if she was imagining things.

"_I would say such wonderful things to you, there would be such wonderful things to do,"_

Anna looked quickly over again. Mary had another earring held against her earlobe. She smiled at her reflection and set the pair aside.

"_If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy,"_ Mary sang softly, rising from the table and going over to the full length mirror. She untied her dressing robe and Anna quickly took it from her outstretched hand.

"You're in a pleasant mood, Milady," Anna said slowly.

"Yes, I suppose I am, Anna," Mary smirked at her reflection in the mirror.

"I don't think I've ever heard you sing in the morning before," Anna continued. Of course Anna knew she had never heard Lady Mary sing in the morning before. Anna had barely heard Lady Mary string together two coherent sentences before she had breakfast.

"Oh, well the song seems to be in my head from last night still," Mary remarked as Anna took her nightgown and Mary put on her slip and blouse.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night, Anna?" Mary asked.

"Yes, Milady," Anna smiled. "We were all very happy to have William back. He and Mr. Matthew gave us all a real fright."

"Yes, they both did," Mary smiled, fastening her skirt and appraising herself in the mirror.

"But it's good to see them back alive and well, isn't it Milady?"

"Oh yes, Anna," Mary smiled, going over to sit at her vanity as Anna began doing her hair. "It was very good to see Matthew and William last night."

* * *

Matthew breathed deeply as the morning air filled his lungs. He smiled and shook his head. He had to remind himself that the sun was not brighter. He had to remind himself that the sky was not a deeper shade of blue. He had to remind himself that the birds were not singing just for him.

He closed his eyes and smiled, enjoying the peace and calm of Yorkshire, so different from what he usually felt at this time in the morning when he was back at the Front. His mind immediately took him to Mary. Her arms clutching at his shoulders. Her scent filling his senses. Her neck. Her breasts. Her legs. Her moans making him drunk with pleasure. Matthew knew from the first moment they met that she was gorgeous. He knew now from having spent a blissful evening with her that she was far more than that.

She was ethereal – too perfect for this world.

Matthew grinned and went back inside, walking across the Great Hall. It was just a normal day, he reminded himself. It was just a normal day at Downton Abbey and he was just about to have breakfast with Mary and the family and spend a leisurely day before having to prepare himself to leave the next morning. He began to walk towards the Morning Room, when he stopped himself and looked back around the Great Hall. He smiled and changed direction, heading for the stairs.

* * *

Mary walked briskly down the stairs, plans and ideas swimming through her head. She would have to be reserved and polite at breakfast, keeping everything under control. Papa would not mind if she walked out with Matthew afterward. It was the last day of his leave, and no one would begrudge him doing whatever he wished. Mary blushed deeply at the thought.

He can do whatever he wishes with me, she thought devilishly. She scolded herself and shook her head.

Upon reaching the Great Hall, she looked up and all thoughts of reservation and propriety were torn to shreds. Matthew stood waiting for her, a silly grin on his face. She looked down as he approached her, but she could not stop a smile of her own from crossing her lips, or biting her tongue lightly as he grinned at her.

"Good morning, Mary," Matthew said quietly.

"Good morning, Matthew," she smiled back, looking up at him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied easily. He leaned towards her slightly and smirked. "Although it took some time for me to get to sleep. I was rather distracted…after you left."

Mary blushed and looked away. Since when was he so bold? Since when did it affect her so?

She smiled and turned back towards him. Since they had made love last night, obviously. Everything was different now.

"Well don't worry, Captain," Mary said airily. "I'll be sure to leave you alone this evening so you can get a full night's rest."

Matthew swallowed, trying and failing to hide the crestfallen expression that covered his face.

"Is something wrong, Matthew?" Mary asked, her eyes regarding him playfully.

"No," Matthew replied, trying to keep his composure. Why did her every glance set his blood boiling? "It will be good to enjoy my last night here in a warm bed."

"Hmm, that reminds me," Mary said, making a show of thinking over his last phrase. "The Bachelor's Wing can be rather cold in the evening, or so I've heard."

"Yes, that's true," Matthew stammered, not daring to hope that she was implying what he thought she was.

Mary touched his arm briefly, stopping him as they approached the Morning Room.

"Perhaps I can arrange for you to use a much warmer bed this evening, Matthew," Mary whispered.

"I would be extremely grateful, Mary," Matthew gasped, colour flushing his cheeks.

"Leave it to me," Mary said, eyeing him pointedly. "And be ready for when I call."

She turned and walked into the Morning Room. Matthew took a deep breath and calmed himself before entering behind her.

"I can't believe you're leaving so soon, Cousin Matthew," Edith said sadly.

"He's a soldier, Edith, and we are at War," Robert said, lowering his newspaper slightly. "But let us all hope that this damn debacle ends soon and Matthew is back where he belongs."

"Hear, hear," Mary said quietly.

"How are you going to spend the day, Matthew? We'll be having dinner tonight of course," Robert asked.

"I think I'll have a quiet day. It's a luxury, let me assure you," Matthew smiled. "I'll walk the grounds, head into the Village for luncheon perhaps, drop in on Molesley and Mrs. Bird before I come back."

"Would you like some company?" Edith asked.

Matthew's eyes widened in surprise.

"He has some, thank you," Mary said icily, glaring at her sister.

Robert regarded the exchange with a confused frown.

"I thought you were busy working in the wards with Sybil today," Edith said bitterly.

"You were wrong, not surprisingly," Mary retorted.

"Cousin Edith," Matthew said calmly. "Thank you for your generosity. Mary's already graciously offered to accompany me today. But I am looking forward to speaking with you at dinner. I'm afraid I've had so little time here, it hasn't given me the opportunity to catch up with all of you as much as I would have liked."

Edith smiled. "That's quite all right, Cousin Matthew. Yes, we can speak later."

They finished their breakfast and Mary and Matthew rose and left the table together. Robert looked at them walk out, this time more intrigued than confused.

**Downton Village, England, April 1918**

Matthew ultimately decided to wear his uniform for their walk into the Village. He didn't particularly enjoy wearing it when he was on leave. He wanted to escape, to blend in, and wearing his military attire hardly did that. He glanced at Mary in her lovely outdoor outfit, and he regretted that he couldn't wear a suit with a proper long coat and hat to match hers. They would make quite a sight, the prospective Earl of Grantham and Lady Mary Crawley out for a leisurely stroll.

But Matthew knew how the real world worked better than most. He knew how men out of military dress were viewed. He knew how the women who accompanied them were treated. He could take the catcalls and boos and mistaken accusations of being a coward without any trouble, but God help anyone who dared to heckle Mary in his presence. So, he wore his military uniform, so he would not have to murder anyone who attacked his Lady's honour.

Mary. His Lady. His beloved. The very idea was a whisper of a dream in his mind for so long. Such a delicate and fragile thought that he could never give it voice, afraid that it would crumble. He had spent so many nights in cold and desolate trenches imagining Mary being his, even after he had proposed to Lavinia and the dream had become impossible. But he would always come back to it, always hang on to it to get him through all of those nights, and in the morning it would vanish when War returned.

"Matthew?" she asked patiently.

"Yes, darling?" he answered, roused from his daydreaming.

Mary smiled and looked away.

"They're waiting on your order, Matthew," Mary said quietly, blushing at the endearment that had rolled off his tongue so naturally.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Matthew apologized to the server. "I'll have the tuna fish sandwich, thank you."

The server merely nodded and smiled at him, smiled at Mary, then went away to place their order with the kitchen.

"You were so deep in contemplation, I thought you were going to order Beef Wellington or some other intricate delicacy," Mary teased. "What were you thinking about? Or does tuna fish genuinely stymie you so?"

"No, tuna fish is easy," Matthew smiled, sipping his tea. "I was thinking about you."

"Oh," Mary blushed, sipping her tea to hide her face. She put her cup down and looked up at him. "What about me, exactly?"

"I don't think I can discuss it in public," Matthew smiled.

"Matthew!" Mary blushed again.

"The more pedestrian version is that I can't believe I'm spending a lovely day with you on my arm."

"Matthew, we've had luncheons together before, it's hardly cause for celebration," Mary said lightly.

"I disagree," Matthew said easily. "This is our first luncheon as lovers," he said, raising his eyebrow at her cheekily.

"Matthew! Don't call me that here!" She glanced around to see if anyone was watching. She felt a light fluttering in her chest that was utterly strange and delightful.

"What would you prefer then, Mary?" he laughed.

She bit her bottom lip and smiled, unable to remain cross with him, or shocked by anything he said.

"Well, we aren't betrothed, not yet," she said quietly, refusing to raise the name and issue that still hung over them.

"Not officially, no," Matthew agreed, refusing to allow anything to dampen his mood.

"So that leaves us as…" Mary struggled.

"Courting?" Matthew suggested.

"I think we're probably past that," Mary smiled.

"Well then, why don't I call you darling, and you can call me the same, and that will suffice until we can call each other something better?"

Mary grinned, unable to look away from the twinkling in his eyes and the smirk on his lips. In that moment, she fleetingly thought it wouldn't be so bad if the whole world knew about her past, because then no one could be shocked if she leapt on Matthew and devoured him in an entirely unladylike fashion.

"Fine," she said quietly. "That will do."

"Excellent, darling," Matthew smiled, taking a sip of his tea.

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1918**

When they reached their bench, underneath their tree, they were perhaps even more nervous than they were the night before when they lay in each others arms in the dark.

"Perhaps we should wait," Mary said apprehensively. "You're leaving tomorrow and we have so little time. I don't want to spend it talking about…"

"Mary," Matthew said calmly. "We said we would talk about this. I'd rather talk about it now than have to discuss it over letters. I can't know when I'll be back next, darling. We need to deal with all of this. The world won't wait for us, unfortunately."

Mary nodded and sighed. Of course he was right, but she just did not want to get into it all.

"He bought the story off of Vera Bates," Mary said quietly. "She heard it through servants' gossip in London. If it was just her spreading rumours then no one would care. But, if it gets into the papers…"

"Then everyone will assume it's true, and even if they don't, doors will be closed to you as a precaution," Matthew finished.

Mary nodded. "There was a time when I thought the world was changing and that such talk wouldn't matter. But I find to my dismay that not only has the world not changed fast enough, but neither have I. I still care what people think of me, I'm afraid."

"I meant what I said, Mary," Matthew said firmly. "I don't care. I never could despise you, not over this."

Mary nodded nervously. "But are you sure? What if…won't the late Mr. Pamuk resurrect himself every time we argue?"

Matthew smiled. "No. I can promise you he won't if you can promise me that you won't hold any of the terrible things I've done in the name of God and His Majesty against me in the future."

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she whispered. "I wish I was brave enough to not care about any of it. But the fact is Matthew that you'll be Earl of Grantham someday, and you'll sit in the House of Lords and you'll need to have a network in London, and having a wife with such a reputation will be very inconvenient. To say nothing of Edith and Sybil becoming properly settled. It'll be a stain on the family."

"We could just ignore it, you know? We're at War, Mary. For God's sake, some bawdy exaggerated tale from years ago is hardly important with all that's happening now," Matthew shook his head.

"That's just it, Matthew," Mary replied, rolling her eyes. "The entire nation is sick of this War, and how everyday there's more and more news of it, none of it good. London would eat my story up. It's a convenient distraction, don't you see? What better way to take the minds of the public off of all the tragedy and heartbreak by offering up the High Society slut from Yorkshire for everyone to laugh at?"

"Do not call yourself that!" Matthew growled suddenly, causing Mary to jump. "You aren't a…don't use that word."

"How much did he pay for the story? We can cover that, surely, and then he won't be out of pocket. It may be enough," Matthew continued.

"I doubt it," Mary shook her head. "He has enough money, it's not that. He likes having me in his debt. He likes the power and control. He thinks he's better than us, but Society doesn't agree. Marrying me is his way of putting one over on our class."

"When does he expect your answer?" Matthew asked.

"He's written to Papa for permission, so another month, two at most?" Mary answered. "He's not due back here until the summer, but if I don't write to him and accept, he'll demand an answer before then."

"Leave it with me," Matthew said firmly. "There's something we're missing, and I need to think about it some more."

"I don't want you to take this back with you," Mary said. "You don't need the distraction."

"I can handle it," Matthew smiled. "I don't think Carlisle's position is as firm as he believes. None of this is legal. There has to be a way we can use that."

"All right," Mary said grudgingly. "But I'll have to go to London and confront him if you don't come up with something. And I'll need to tell Papa."

"Talk to your Mama about that," Matthew said. "She'll know when the time is right. If we can keep it quiet, then Robert need not be any the wiser. But if we can't, and Carlisle publishes, you'll need to warn him so he can be prepared."

"I doubt he'll ever be prepared for something like this," Mary sighed.

"It will soften the blow when he finds out you're marrying me instead."

She raised her eyebrow to him. "You're being rather presumptuous, aren't you, Matthew?" Mary smiled. "I haven't seen any ring, nor heard any real proposal."

"Point taken, darling," Matthew smiled. "Just promise me you'll consider my case before anyone else's."

"I can do that," Mary smiled.

* * *

Dinner was an understandably subdued affair. Everyone was pleased to spend Matthew's last night together as a family, but conversation did not come easily. Being jovial seemed insulting, and being melancholy seemed depressing, which only left careful indifference as the prevailing mood.

"Will you be seeing Lavinia in London, Matthew?" Sybil asked.

Mary's eyes widened.

"No," Matthew said calmly. He glanced at Mary before taking a breath.

"Actually, I should tell all of you that Lavinia and I have decided to end our engagement," he said clearly.

Violet frowned.

Edith dropped her soup spoon with a clang.

Robert and Cora glanced at each other.

"Really?" Mary asked, biting her bottom lip when Matthew looked at her incredulously.

"Yes," he said slowly, frowning at her quickly before turning back to the family. "I unfortunately changed my mind about marrying her, and she kindly accepted it."

"That is unfortunate," Violet agreed. "But not unheard of. War makes us all consider choices that we may not otherwise have made," she said, looking pointedly at Mary.

"I hardly think Matthew is one to act so rashly," Cora said slowly, looking at Matthew carefully.

"Indeed," Robert agreed. He paused, looking at his heir curiously. "But, that's all the more reason to support his decision. I'm sure it wasn't reached without careful consideration."

"Thank you, Cousin Robert," Matthew nodded. "I agonized over it, frankly. However, when one is faced with death each day, it becomes remarkably clear what living really means."

Matthew glanced at Mary before taking a sip of wine. Mary looked down demurely.

"How lovely," Edith said. "Then I suppose we'll only have one wedding to plan for next year."

Mary's eyes shot up. "And who's would that be? Don't tell us you've actually found someone?" she said coldly.

"My time shall come," Edith sneered. "No, I was referring to your betrothal to Sir Richard Carlisle of course."

Mary grit her teeth.

"You're engaged, Mary?" Sybil asked.

"No, I'm not," Mary said lightly, her eyes narrowing at Edith.

"Not officially, but it's only a matter of time. You were so enthusiastic for all of us to meet him, weren't you?" Edith smiled.

"Sir Richard did write to me," Robert added. "Are you saying I should wait before replying to him, Mary?"

"Yes, Papa," Mary turned and smiled at him. "I haven't made up my mind yet."

"But I thought Sir Richard had it all," Edith continued. "Money, a newspaper empire, connections in London, you'll be the most in-demand hostess in Society, Mary – what you've always aspired to be."

Matthew breathed deeply, trying to keep a scowl at bay.

"Edith, that's enough," Cora warned.

"Don't worry about her, Mama," Mary said lightly. "As usual, she doesn't have the faintest clue what she's talking about."

* * *

Once everyone had come through and there was enough conversation to occupy everyone, Cora quietly moved away from the sofa and approached Mary by the fireplace.

"Has something changed?" Cora whispered.

Mary looked up to make sure no one else was around them. Everyone else was gathered on the opposite side of the room speaking with Matthew.

"Yes," Mary said quickly. "I can't explain but there may be a change in plans regarding my supposed engagement."

"A change in the timing?" Cora asked.

"Yes, and in my fiancé," Mary looked at her knowingly.

Cora closed her eyes and sighed. "Mary, we've been over this."

"Don't, Mama!" Mary hissed. "You know where my heart lies, where it has always been."

"Yes, and I know how crushed you will be when Matthew learns the truth, which he must since you insist on telling him. Oh Mary, you owe Sir Richard a great deal, you know."

"I don't owe him anything!" Mary spat back. "And whatever it is I may owe to him, I owe Matthew far more, and we both know which debt I would much rather repay! Mama, Matthew loves me and he's no longer engaged. I would be a fool to let this opportunity pass."

"You would be a fool to go chasing after Matthew and allow Sir Richard to destroy your reputation!"

"My reputation is not worth spending the rest of my life with a man who sets my teeth on edge!" Mary retorted. "I have to see this through, Mama. And there may be a way for it all to work out for all of us."

"Fine," Cora whispered. "But you will not drag this family down with you. Think of a way to let Sir Richard down gently, otherwise the repercussions may be too much for even you to survive, my dear."

"Cousin Cora," he called.

"Matthew!" Cora smiled, looking at Mary before turning and smiling at her husband's heir.

"Cousin Robert wanted me to fetch you as Cousin Violet is going home," he said.

"Thank you, Matthew," Cora smiled, nodding and walking away.

Matthew looked at Mary and smirked. "Let me guess, your Mama isn't as supportive as you'd like."

"No, darling, no!" Mary said with a false smile. "I didn't have a chance to tell her everything, but she'll be happy for us."

"And she'll help you with your Papa?" Matthew looked at her warily. "I don't want you to face all of this alone while I'm gone, Mary."

"She'll be as supportive as she always is," Mary nodded. "Now, enough of that, I have an entirely different scheme to discuss with you."

"What masterful stroke are you planning now?" Matthew asked with a laugh.

"A curious case, really. The great lovers' reunion caper," Mary smiled.

Matthew swallowed and his eyes widened. "Really?" he stammered.

"Yes, Matthew," Mary smirked. Making sure no one was looking at them, she leaned towards him. "Wait until everyone has retired and the servants have put out the lights. An hour later, come to my room."

"I shall do my best," Matthew grunted.

"Please do, darling," Mary smiled, walking past him. "I'll be waiting," she whispered before walking away.

* * *

"There's no need for a braid tonight, Anna," Mary said calmly. "Let's leave my hair down."

"Yes, Milady," Anna replied, frowning. She never left Lady Mary's hair down.

Anna soon finished preparing her Mistress for bed and excused herself with a curtsy. Mary stayed at her vanity, the only light the flickers from the fireplace.

Mary looked at her reflection in the mirror, the firelight dancing across her skin. She rubbed her hands, the air warmer than in Matthew's bedroom but still slightly cool. She looked down at her pale fingers, gazing at her empty left hand and smiling to herself.

There was so much left to say between them. There was always something left to say. Mary replayed their memories in her mind, from her scathing rebuke at Crawley House to their playful flirting at the Flower Show, from her casting him aside to flirt with Strallan of all people, to how he held her when they danced during Sybil's Season. Six years it had been almost from the day they first met. She shook her head. Six years. She had wasted so much time. They had wasted so much time.

Mary rose from her vanity and turned towards her bed. Six years. If she had only accepted him the first time, they would be married today, with children surely. At least one, maybe even two. A boy with blonde hair and a girl with long brown tresses and a sharp wit. Mary leaned against the bedpost, breathing deeply. Six years. Why had they waited?

She turned again and looked into the fireplace now. Of course she knew why. She had a list of reasons, none of them particularly convincing and all of them now appearing entirely foolish. She knew what it was like to lay in his arms. She knew what it felt like to have his gaze, his body, his soul focused entirely on her. She knew the joy of opening herself up to him and being happily, unashamedly and unreservedly free. She knew what it meant to be his.

Mary sat down on the edge of her bed, her hands smoothing over the thick blanket. She smiled and waited for him.

* * *

Matthew stood still outside of the door of his bedroom, breathing quietly and keeping himself ramrod straight. He blinked several times, adjusting his eyes to the darkness, the shapes and shadows of the hallway sharpening before him.

The ticking of the grandfather clock pulsed slowly to his ears. There were no footsteps. There were no voices. There was no one about at this hour.

Matthew slowly stepped away from the door, making careful and deliberate steps as he went. He knew these halls so well and he was so used to finding his way in the dark that he was quickly past the large staircase and over into the Family Wing easily. He paused outside Mary's door, his breathing slow and calm.

The teasing voices of the soldiers under his command came flooding back to him and made him smile. 'What do you mean you're not coming with us to Madame Boudoir's, Crawley?' 'C'mon Crawley, we've been dragging our asses through the shit for months. A warm bed and a soft woman is exactly what we need!' 'Crawley you prat! Your lady won't know.'

Matthew shook his head, stopping himself from chuckling. Truly he was glad that his men had the distraction of ladies of the night in Paris. Some of them had not lived very long past those rare visits. At least they had a moment of pleasure, everyone always said. At least they knew the touch of a woman.

And now Matthew knew. Matthew knew that he was entirely vindicated. He knew waiting had been exactly the best decision he had ever made in his life. He had felt shame. He had felt unworthy. He had thought himself the worst of men when the soldiers around him thought him some kind of saint. He did not refuse to go to the red light districts and the brothels out of some sense of propriety. He did not refuse because he did not want to betray Lavinia. He refused because he did not want to tarnish his dream. He did not want to think about his first time with Mary and cheapen it with the memory of taking a whore for the night. Even when he thought he would never know Mary is such an intimate way, he still could not bring himself to forsake her in his dream.

'Funny,' Matthew thought as he reached for the doorknob to Mary's bedroom. 'Even the dream paled in comparison to the real thing.'

* * *

Mary smiled as the doorknob turned and the door opened slightly, closing just as quickly behind him. His blue eyes glowed just as they had the previous night and she stood up and took his hands in hers when he reached her bed.

"My lover arrives," Mary raised her eyebrow at him.

"In the flesh, darling," he smirked before taking her into his embrace and kissing her deeply.

Mary groaned into his mouth as he pressed closer to her. Her hands went up his back and she turned her head, delighting in his lustful growl. When they separated, their foreheads remained touching lightly, as though they needed as much contact as possible while they regained their breath.

"Are you sure, Mary?" he gasped. "Last night was wonderful, darling, but I don't want to push you. We don't have to do this. I can only imagine what kind of nightmares you must have of a man being here and…"

"Shh," Mary quieted him, touching her fingers to his lips. "I've been afraid, Matthew. Not all of the time, but I've been afraid of the dark. Sometimes I'll toss and turn for hours before falling asleep. Sometimes I'll have nightmares about it and be afraid to close my eyes again. I don't want to be afraid anymore. Last night, in your arms and afterwards when I came back here, I wasn't afraid. I felt like me again, and I want to feel that way now, I want to remember that feeling, remember what it feels like to be with you."

She reached up and kissed him again. Her hands flew to the knot of his dressing gown and the garment was soon discarded. Mary gasped against his lips as the thin silk of her nightgown came into contact with his bare chest.

"No shirt, Matthew?" she smiled between kisses.

"I believe in," he gasped. "Efficiency."

Mary's breath caught in her throat as he picked her up off the floor. He swept her on to the bed easily, his body resting above hers, his lips insistent against her neck and his hands roaming across her sides.

Their first time was everything Mary thought it would be. Matthew was shy and considerate and adorably deliberate. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, which made every delightful tremor that he pulled out of her all the more wonderful. Mary was hardly experienced herself, having been far from an active participant her only other time. But the way that Matthew seemed to trust her, seemed to not hesitate, emboldened her.

Whereas last night was about exploration and discovery, tonight was about raw need. They both knew Matthew would leave in the morning. They both knew the future was unknown. They both knew that all they had for certain was this night together.

Matthew pulled Mary's nightgown up her body with alarming speed. Now was not the time to be slow. Now was not the time to be timid. He poured his desperation and fear into showing the woman he loved the depth of his desire for her. His eyes shot open in shock and elation as Mary met him move for move, her hands just as active in pushing his pyjamas down his legs, her body just as pliant as they fit together, her arousal just as strong.

"Mary," he breathed, bringing her leg up and around his hip, his hand curving around her bottom and holding her against him.

"Yes, Matthew," she hissed, her arms clutching him, pulling his head against her shoulder and neck, her hips urging him forward.

Matthew thrust inside of her and held himself still, his breathing ragged and his skin warm against hers. He lifted his head and stared into her dark eyes. They stared at each other, holding their gaze as they moved together. Matthew broke away and pressed his mouth hard across the curve of her shoulder. Mary held on to the back of his head, clinging to him as she felt her release coming alarmingly quickly. She gasped loudly as it overtook her and she shut her eyes.

Mary shuddered and her fingers clutched at the damp skin of Matthew's back. His pace increased mercilessly, and his mouth was now upon her hungrily, across her shoulder, her neck, her cheek and finally her lips, seeking to know and remember every part of her.

Before Mary peaked again and before Matthew fell apart, a single thought flickered through the wave of emotion filling her and leaving her lightheaded.

She vowed that once they were married they would never sleep in separate rooms.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"What do you think?" she smiled against his neck.

His deep laugh caused his chest to shake soothingly against hers.

"I think I don't want to go. I don't want to go from your bed. I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to go away."

"Oh Matthew," she kissed his neck. "Then stay. Stay here with me."

"What about when Anna comes in to wake you?" he smiled.

"What better way to spread the news?" Mary smiled back. "Gossip travels faster downstairs than over the telephone."

"Perhaps we should give her a demonstration so she is clear on what to say," Matthew smiled.

"Don't make me blush," Mary laughed, kissing his shoulder.

Matthew sighed. He held her tight to him, feeling her warmth, her body touching his, imprinting her on his heart.

"I'll come with you in the morning," Mary said quietly.

"It'll be too early. You should sleep."

"I won't sleep a restful minute if I don't see you off on the platform, no matter the time."

"All right," Matthew kissed her head.

He moved to rise and Mary pushed him back down against the pillows.

"You can sleep on the train to London," she whispered into his ear seductively and moved on top of him.


	3. Such Good Luck

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, April 1918**

"I'll come with you in the morning," Mary said quietly.

"It'll be too early. You should sleep."

"I won't sleep a restful minute if I don't see you off on the platform, no matter the time."

"All right," Matthew kissed her head.

He moved to rise and Mary pushed him back down against the pillows.

"You can sleep on the train to London," she whispered into his ear seductively and moved on top of him.

**Chapter 3: Such Good Luck**

**Train Station, Downton Village, England, April 1918**

Mary held her purse tightly in front of her, standing patiently as Matthew gave his instructions to William.

"You can go ahead and board. I'll be with you in a moment, Mason," Matthew nodded.

"Yes, Sir," William said crisply, hefting both of their bags over his shoulders. He turned slightly and bowed. "Lady Mary."

"Good luck, Mason," Mary smiled politely.

The young footman-turned-soldier stepped up into the train, disappearing through the early morning fog and steam billowing around the platform.

Matthew looked around before ushering Mary gently towards a small alcove next to the ticket office, hidden away from the few people milling about. Looking at each other expectantly, Matthew could not help himself and pulled her into an embrace.

"Darling," he sighed.

Mary fought to keep her tears at bay. She breathed deeply, inhaling his scent, her gloved hands holding him firmly, trying to memorize the feel of him in these last moments before they parted.

"I shouldn't keep you," she said bravely when they separated, still standing close together. "You won't want to miss your connection in London."

Matthew nodded, looking at her carefully.

"I'm not going to see Lavinia, you know. We switch trains and leave right away for Southampton port once we get into King's Cross."

Mary's eyes widened and she swallowed, lifting her chin to maintain her calm veneer.

"Of course you won't. I don't care if…that is…it doesn't matter to me if you…" Mary stammered, frowning at her sudden anxiousness.

"I said everything I needed to say to her already," Matthew said assuredly. "And as despicable as I may be for it, I have nothing more to say to her, nor any need to visit her."

"Very well," Mary said, letting more satisfaction into her voice than she intended. "And you aren't despicable."

Matthew smiled, but his face was still covered in sad resignation. "What am I, then?"

"You're the man I love," Mary smirked.

Matthew smiled at her. He then looked down at the ground, his brow creasing and his expression becoming serious.

"Mary, I want you to do something for me," he mumbled quietly, looking up at her sadly.

Mary's eyes widened. Her memory flashed and her heart tightened as she was pulled back to a similar phrase spoken on this very same platform nearly two years ago.

She slapped him.

Her glove came across his face quick and hard and Matthew barely moved, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock at her response.

"Matthew Crawley, don't you even think it!" she snarled, her eyes wide and her anger rising. "Don't you dare talk to me about…that! Don't you dare tell me that if you were to…if something were to happen to you, you want me to find someone else. Don't you dare tell me that I'm young and I can still have a life. Don't you dare come back here, tell me that you love me, make love to me and then the moment you're about to get back on that train speak to me about a life without you. If you do not come back to me, I swear to God that I will hunt you down wherever you are and kill you myself."

She was breathing quickly. The tears were welling in her eyes and her fists were clenched tightly.

Matthew stared at her. He slowly overcame his astonishment and smirked.

"Well if you put it that way, I suppose I have no choice but to stay alive and come back and marry you."

She practically lunged at him, seizing the lapels of his coat and kissing him fiercely. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly against him, his lips as eager as hers.

"You're the only one who makes me feel…like me," she said shakily, looking into his eyes. "I can't lose you. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

"I love you, Mary," he smiled.

"I love you, you idiot of a man," Mary smiled back.

He kissed her again before stepping back and taking a deep breath. He gave her a brave smile.

"God bless you, Mary," he said.

"Good luck, my darling," Mary said, smoothing her hand over his jacket.

They walked on to the platform, as though they were merely cousins saying a polite goodbye. He tipped his cap and she nodded to him and he was up the stairs and into the train car, moving briskly past William and into the window seat. He looked out at her. Their eyes met and she gave him a brave smile, her hands clawing at her purse desperately.

The train whistle blew shrilly in the cold morning air and the train slowly pulled away. Matthew locked his eyes on hers, following her gaze as long as he could before the train picked up speed and left the station.

Mary stood rigid, her head turned, watching the train grow smaller and smaller into the distance. Only when it had disappeared into the horizon did she finally take a deep breath, then walk with short hurried strides back out to the waiting car. Branson nodded to her and closed the door behind her. The chauffeur knew better than to say anything, or even to look back at Mary as she sat in the back seat, clutching her purse in her lap and staring out the window blankly all the way back to Downton Abbey.

**Amiens. France, April 1918**

"Major, Sir. Crawley reporting, Sir!" Matthew said clearly, snapping his hand up against his helmet in salute.

"At ease, Captain," the Major said, looking Matthew up and down.

Matthew still stood straight, but allowed his gaze to follow the Major, rather than looking straight ahead at the wall of the tent. A large map with several pins and markings was spread out on the table and the Major was looking at it intently.

"How are your troops doing, Matthew?"

"They're in good spirits, Sir. We survived the last shelling without much difficulty. Supplies are adequate and ammunition is full," Matthew answered.

"And their health? There seems to be a nasty bit of trench foot going around."

"They're fine. A few nicks and scrapes, but nothing to be concerned about. We picked up new boots and socks while we were on leave."

"Good, good. I want you to move your men down this line, you'll take patrol and watch over this territory here," the Major indicated, pointing to the map. Matthew come up to the table to get a better look.

"We're expecting the Canadians tomorrow, with resupply after that. If we can push through to this position here by the time they arrive, we should have no trouble holding this space through to the Summer."

"Yes, Sir."

"I don't want you to move forward until I give the order personally. We're coordinating movements along the trenches so ignore whatever whistles you may hear as they'll be for other units. When you see me tomorrow morning, you'll know it's time to go."

"Yes, Sir."

"Prepare your men properly, Matthew. I want you on the far side of the trench this evening and I want to be having tea in that forward position by tomorrow afternoon."

"Yes, Sir." Matthew nodded.

The Major exhaled and sat down. He looked away from the map and looked up at Matthew.

"Have a seat, Matthew," the Major motioned to another chair.

Matthew sat down, placing his hands on the table.

"On to more important matters," the Major stated. "How is Lady Mary?"

Matthew smiled. It was strange how the mention of her name could raise his spirits despite him being deep in mud with artillery shells flying over their heads in the French countryside.

"She's very well, thank you."

"And did you speak with her when you were back home? Truly speak to her, I mean."

"I did, yes," Matthew smiled.

"And?"

"Shockingly enough, it turns out that she loves me also."

Major Alexander Lewis grinned at his longtime friend. "Congratulations, Matthew. That's wonderful."

"Thank you, Alex," Matthew smiled. "I really can't believe it, still."

"I do hope you didn't just leave it at that. Please tell me you're going to do something about it."

"Yes, certainly!" Matthew said firmly. "I released Lavinia when I was in London, before I went to see Mary. We just need to extricate Mary from her current suitor and our path will be clear."

"Well that should be easy enough. If I've learned anything about the aristocracy, they have all manner of methods to throw a man over, and even make him feel grateful for it."

Matthew chuckled. "Actually, it isn't easy at all."

"Why?" Alex asked. "She doesn't actually have feelings for this man does she?"

"No! Not any positive ones, anyway," Matthew said ruefully. "However, there are…complications that she…that we face."

"Goodness, that sounds serious," Alex said.

"It is," Matthew nodded. "In fact, I was hoping I could trouble you for some legal advice."

"Legal advice?" Alex smirked. "It's been a few years since we've been lawyers, Matthew."

"Perhaps," Matthew smiled. "But we can't be too rusty can we?"

"I suppose we'll soon find out. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about a way to extricate someone from an unfortunate agreement," Matthew answered.

"Well, there are numerous ways to do that," Alex smiled. "Although I expect you're looking for a way that both works and is discrete?"

Matthew nodded.

"Tell me the details. Or, at least the ones you are comfortable disclosing," Alex said thoughtfully.

Matthew explained the situation to Alex, leaving out the details of Mary's affair with Kemal Pamuk, but mentioning that Sir Richard had sensitive information to bind her to him, and force her to marry him.

"And what did Mary say when you suggested forcing Sir Richard's hand?" Alex asked.

"How do you know I suggested that?" Matthew asked.

"Because I know you, Matthew. So what was her answer?"

"She's strong enough to brave the storm, I'm sure," Matthew said firmly. "And so am I, it doesn't matter to me, any of it."

"But?"

"But she's concerned for her family," Matthew sighed. "As well as for my future as Earl of Grantham."

"Having a wife with a scandalous past could be politically inconvenient," Alex nodded.

"I don't care about that," Matthew spat. "Sitting in the House of Lords and all of the rest of it. I've wasted far too many years being without Mary to give up now."

"Calm, Matthew," Alex nodded. "Save your passion for other pursuits. You need a clear head to see a solution. What do I always tell you about uncontrolled anger?"

"You end up dead," Matthew recited.

"Exactly. Now, it seems to me that Sir Richard has a certain amount of leverage against Lady Mary over this secret. The question is how do you take that leverage back?"

"By finding something to hold against him," Matthew stated.

"I agree," Alex smiled. "So what could there be?"

"Besides the fact that blackmailing Mary is illegal? I don't know," Matthew shook his head. "I don't know Sir Richard at all, and I'm rather glad of that, to be honest."

"Well, let's focus on what you do know about him."

"He's rich," Matthew said disdainfully. "Power mad from the looks of it. He doesn't love Mary. She's a trophy to him, a way to get into Society since he does not have a sufficient title of his own."

"Do you know how Sir Richard obtained his title, Matthew?"

"I expect he's not an actual Knight," Matthew smirked. "You know how these patronage appointments work, Alex. He probably was granted it for service to Britain or some other vague achievement."

"Right," Alex nodded. "And what has he possibly achieved?"

"He's not in the army, I can tell you that," Matthew spat. "His wealth, his power, it's all because of his…"

"Yes?" Alex smiled.

"His newspapers…" Matthew said slowly, his eyes widening.

Alex and Matthew, attorneys-at-law, shared a knowing glance and smiled.

**Downton Abbey, England, May 1918**

Mary adjusted her earrings as she looked upon her reflection in her vanity mirror. She sighed as she appraised her hair and jewellery.

"Is everything all right, Milady?" Anna asked, standing off to the side.

"Yes, Anna, thank you," Mary smiled.

"Mr. Carson mentioned that His Lordship invited some guests for dinner tonight," Anna said.

"They're friends of Papa's from the army," Mary nodded. "They like to sit around and drink brandy and talk about the glory days, all the while conveniently ignoring the fact that they're safely here in England while others are putting their lives in danger in foreign lands."

"Well you wouldn't want His Lordship to go to War, would you, Milady?"

"No, of course not," Mary said, turning in her chair and looking at her maid. "But I would prefer if he did not associate War with glory. I expect Mr. Crawley would not share such a rose coloured view of things."

A knock on the door interrupted them as Cora came in to Mary's bedroom.

"Anna, if you're finished with Lady Mary, could you please go help Lady Edith get ready for dinner?" Cora smiled.

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Anna curtsied and left the room.

Mary turned back to her vanity and preoccupied herself with her hand cream bottles.

"You received another letter from Matthew," Cora said.

Mary's eyes shot up and she rose from her chair. She reached out and took the letter from Cora's hand.

"Thank you," Mary said quickly as she went to her dresser and looked for the letter opener.

"Matthew seems to be writing rather often," Cora noted, sitting down on Mary's bed. "That's the third letter he's sent you since his leave last month."

"Well he's just being efficient," Mary said, finally finding the letter opener. "I told you that he includes his well wishes for all of the family in each letter."

"Yes, he's very good that way," Cora nodded, watching as Mary sat down at her vanity and tore open the envelope with a quick cut.

"Did something happen between the two of you when he was last here?" she asked.

Mary stopped and put Matthew's letter on the vanity. She turned in her chair and looked at her Mama.

"Yes," she said quietly, playing with a bead on her dress.

"And did it have anything to do with his ending his engagement with Lavinia?"

"No," Mary shook her head. "He decided to do that before he came back."

"And do you know why he decided to break his engagement?"

"Why would I?" Mary asked.

"That doesn't mean you don't know," Cora said pointedly.

Mary looked away.

"Mary," Cora shook her head. "Before the concert last month you told your Papa that you were likely to accept Sir Richard's proposal. Then days after Matthew's arrival you said you hadn't yet decided and you still have not to this day. I do hope you aren't reconsidering because Matthew is now no longer engaged. Whether he would have married Lavinia or not, I thought you understood that your chance with Matthew was over."

"That's what I thought," Mary agreed, biting her lower lip.

"But?" Cora asked.

"But then he told me that he loves me," Mary smiled.

"What?"

"Matthew told me he loves me. He said he never stopped loving me, in fact."

"I thought when you said he loved you that last night he was here that you were merely being delusional," Cora shook her head.

"Hardly," Mary scoffed. "He loves me, Mama. In spite of everything that's happened, after all this time, he still loves me. Isn't it incredible?"

"But you can't expect Matthew's feelings to stay the same if Sir Richard were to reveal your secret," Cora stated.

"Matthew already knows," Mary said defiantly. "I told him, and he said it didn't matter."

"What?" Cora exclaimed.

"If you would listen to me the first time, I wouldn't need to repeat myself," Mary rolled her eyes.

"So you're considering rejecting Sir Richard because Matthew says he loves you?" Cora asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm rejecting Sir Richard because I love Matthew and he loves me," Mary said, rising from her chair and going over to the window. The days were growing longer and the sun was just setting, casting a pale orange glow across the grounds.

"We would already be married if I had the sense to have told him years ago. I'm not going to let anything stop me this time."

"Mary," Cora sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "It just isn't that simple, my darling."

"Let him publish!" Mary snarled, turning back to her Mama. "Let the whole world know what I did! Mama, I don't care. Now that I know that Matthew doesn't hold it against me, that he sees past it, I can't put him off anymore."

"You always assume everything is about you, don't you?" Cora said bitterly.

"Of course not!" Mary rolled her eyes, walking towards the fireplace.

"Edith, Sybil, how do you expect them to be settled with our family name soiled by this?" Cora asked. "Your Papa, it will destroy him, Mary. Every function we attend, every time we go to London, there will be whispers, insults, are you sure you can handle all of that?"

"It won't be that bad, not for them," Mary huffed, looking into the flames. "My name will be ruined. My name will be the target of gossip, people will whisper about me, and point and giggle and do all manner of horrid things."

Mary turned back to Cora, her head up, her gaze fierce.

"But I'll be Matthew's wife," she said firmly. "And for that reward, I can endure all manner of torture, Mama. Don't worry. You won't have to make excuses for me or hide how ashamed you are for much longer. When I'm Matthew's wife, I'll have all the support I could ever want."

"You're as stubborn as your Granny," Cora rolled her eyes. "And just as foolish. Mary, think about what you're saying. Do you honestly believe that Matthew will be able to forget all of this? Do you really think he can forgive you?"

"He already has!" Mary cried in shock.

"Because he told you so?" Cora laughed bitterly. "Men will say whatever they want if it suits their purposes, Mary. I thought you of all people would know that."

Mary's eyes went wide and her mouth opened in astonishment.

"What are you saying?" she gasped.

"Matthew told you he loves you, but he won't be able to get over this, Mary. No man could. There's a reason they are called 'fallen women'. It's because they lose everything! Your precious Matthew will look at you differently. You'll see. It's easy for him now, Mary. He looks at you and he sees the woman he's loved for years. Nothing has changed yet. But it will, my darling. It will become harder for him, and for you. Everytime you argue, everytime you dare oppose him on anything, everytime he touches you as a husband wishes to touch his wife, he'll be reminded of everything you've done, and he will not forgive you for it. He'll never be able to be as free and loving and trusting with you as he should be, Mary."

Mary swallowed and a blush came to her cheeks. She was thankful that her Mama mistook her reaction for panic and confusion, rather than for what it really was. Mary easily remembered the feeling of Matthew's hands upon her, his naked body deliciously against hers. If their lovemaking felt that good when Matthew was supposedly restrained, Mary shivered thinking about how it would feel when he was completely uninhibited.

"You're wrong, Mama," Mary choked out the words, the tears threatening to spill. "Matthew isn't like that. We're not like that."

Cora looked away and sighed. She turned back and her eyes were sad, her face crestfallen.

"And what if he doesn't come back, Mary? What then?" Cora said quietly.

Mary spun away from her, shutting her eyes furiously as tears spilled down her cheeks.

"If you reject Sir Richard now, and he publishes, your story will be out there, and always will be. And if you, God forbid, lose Matthew, then you'll have nothing. You'll be ruined, with no life to look forward to, and no one who will have you," Cora whispered, every word a sharp lash across Mary's back as though she were flogging her with a whip.

"I love him, Mama, don't you see?" Mary whimpered.

"I know you do, darling," Cora said, standing behind her shaking daughter. "And I know that Matthew loves you, at least he loves the woman he thought you were, the perfect enigma that enchanted him when he first arrived here. But you're not that girl anymore, Mary, and he's not that boy, either, and though the world has changed, my dear, it hasn't changed enough to save you, I'm afraid."

Cora placed her hand on Mary's shoulder. Mary flinched and moved away, taking deep breaths to try and stop her tears.

"I'm going down," Cora said quietly. "I suggest you plan a trip to London to accept Sir Richard in person. He'll appreciate that. Powerful men like him enjoy attention."

"Matthew is planning something," Mary said desperately.

"What?" Cora frowned.

"He knows why Sir Richard proposed to me, the terms for my marrying him. He told me before he left last month that he would find a way out of it," Mary said, still looking away from her Mama.

Cora sighed loudly. "I don't know what he could possibly do," she shook her head. "But if he doesn't come up with something very soon, you will need to give very serious consideration to accepting Sir Richard. Matthew is fighting a War, Mary. He's grown up. It will soon be time for you to do the same."

Cora closed the door behind her, and shut her eyes as she walked quickly down the hall, trying to distance herself from her eldest daughter's sobs.

**Amiens, France, May 1918**

Matthew's unit gathered in position, waiting for him. Orders were barked up and down the line. He armed his rifle, tightened his helmet strap and tested the ladder from the trench to make sure it was stable.

"Spread out, boys. Let's not make it too easy for them shall we?" he called, pushing his men further apart and getting them in line.

"Crawley! You've got our flank! Target is at 800 metres. We go when the machine gun nest is taken out!" a voice barked from further down the trench.

"800 metres! Got it, Stevens!" Matthew called back.

The shelling began, the English cannon booming overhead. The men waited, knowing they would be easy prey for the German gunners if they were to surface now.

"Direct hit! Go! Go! Go!" a voice screamed.

"I love you, Mary," Matthew whispered.

"Go!" he screamed, blowing his whistle as he lunged up the ladder and out into the field. Whistles, cries and shots rang out across the battlefield. Smoke billowed up from artillery shells that hit their target. Matthew ran for 100 metres, then dropped to the ground, steadying his rifle and picking out a target. There were only shadows across the field and he could not make out anything except dark colours and movement. He braced the stock against his shoulder and aimed, closing his left eye as he focused.

Whatever he was aiming at dropped from view after Matthew pulled the trigger. He screamed out again and rose, sprinting forward as he reloaded his rifle from the magazine. His heart lifted slightly as he noticed the bombed out machine gun nest. He did not allow his thoughts to linger as he continued forward, the cries and footfalls of his unit and other soldiers around him. The target, an advanced trench, loomed ahead of them.

"Down! Down! Down!"

Matthew heard the cry and dropped, not bothering to look at whatever was approaching them. A shell thundered behind him, metres away from where he had just laid down to fire his last shot. He rolled, bringing his rifle forward once more and looking for another target, finding one and firing without thinking. The familiar fear and panic rose in his chest as he rose again. Their objective was so close and he could see some of Stevens' unit reach the position ahead of them. Matthew noticed movement to his left and turned, bringing his rifle up.

"Left! Left! Left!" he screamed before firing. Shots rang out around him and he saw five German soldiers fall in the distance. He did not stop, continuing to run, his legs burning and his mouth dry. He had practically sprinted for 800 metres, fear and adrenaline driving him forward when normally his legs would have given out. He dropped to his knees near the target and lifted his rifle, scanning the horizon as the first two men in his unit took up similar positions. The rest of them dove into the trench. Once all were in, Matthew fell backward into the safety of the mud below.

All of his men were accounted for and Stevens' unit had reached the target intact as well. Orders went up and down the line, watches were set up, shots ringing out randomly at retreating Germans or at mere shadows in the distance. The position was deemed secured twenty minutes later and Matthew finally leaned against the dirt wall, exhaling heavily and looking skyward. He felt the weight of the stuffed toy dog in his pocket.

"I love you, Mary."

**Downton Abbey, England, May 1918**

"Mary?" Sybil called. "What are you doing out here?"

Mary looked back over her shoulder at her youngest sister .

"I wanted some air," she explained. "Papa wouldn't notice I'm gone with all the reminiscing he's doing with his lads."

"They are rather whimsical stories, aren't they?" Sybil smiled.

"Mmm," Mary raised her eyebrows in jest.

"What's that?" Sybil frowned, looking at Mary's gloved hand.

Mary smiled as she looked down at the envelope.

"It's a letter from Matthew. It just arrived today."

Sybil looked at Mary's smiling face curiously.

"Things seem to be quite good between you and Cousin Matthew," Sybil smirked, looking up at the stars.

"They've been good for years, now," Mary said plainly, looking at the sky herself. "We made peace when he first came back after being…away."

"But he was engaged back then," Sybil noted. "And now he conveniently is not," she smiled.

"That's true, but that had nothing to do with me," Mary replied. "He made that decision on his own, before he arrived here on leave."

"Of course," Sybil agreed. "I'm sure it was merely a coincidence that you wrote to him about Sir Richard's proposal and he then broke his engagement and came running back here."

Mary looked at her sister and frowned.

"Sybil! You know what happened! Matthew was missing, he was behind enemy lines! He was worried for his life! He hardly had any time to think about me, let alone plan to come back here just to see me. He made it back safely and he naturally wanted to come see his family."

"If you say so," Sybil looked at Mary pointedly. "But my patients tell me that when they fear most for their lives, when they believe they will not survive the hell that they find themselves in, their thoughts turn immediately to those they love, and how desperate they are to live so they can see their loved ones again."

"What are you saying? That Matthew thought of me when he and William were behind German lines?"

"I don't know," Sybil said with a smirk. "I do know that Cousin Matthew has had two loves in his life. Seeing how he broke off his engagement as soon as he came back to England, I think it's clear who he wasn't thinking about."

Mary blushed slightly and looked down at the ground.

"So what does Matthew say in his letter?" Sybil asked, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

"It's private, Sybil," Mary said quietly.

"Then what does he say that you can share with your sister?" Sybil laughed.

"He says hello to you, to all of you," Mary answered.

"And?"

"And he's asked me to go to London, to attend to a particular matter," Mary said quietly.

"That sounds mysterious," Sybil smiled.

"Yes. I don't know if I understand all of it, to be honest. He's putting a great deal of faith in me to take care of this for him while he's away."

"Well of course he believes in you, Mary. He always has."

Mary looked at Sybil's smiling face, then back down at Matthew's letter. She looked up at the stars once more. A sense of calm came over her, the memories dancing through her mind.

"_It does trouble me. It troubles me very much."_

"_Maybe I'll shine by comparison."_

"_I'm sure Diamond doesn't disobey very often at all, but you'll be able to show him who's in charge more easily now."_

"_If you really like a good argument…we should see more of each other."_

Mary smiled.

"Yes, I suppose he always has, hasn't he? We haven't always gotten along, obviously. But he's always believed in me, even when we argued, even when it wasn't in his interest to do so, even when I gave him reason not to."

"So you'll go to London? To take care of this matter for Matthew?" Sybil asked.

"Yes, Sybil," Mary sighed, smiling at her, then looking out to the starlit horizon beyond the grounds. "It's time for me to grow up, as they say. Matthew believes I can do this, so I suppose it's time for me to believe in myself."


	4. The Cold and Careful Lady Mary Crawley

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, May 1918**

"Well of course he believes in you, Mary. He always has."

Mary looked at Sybil's smiling face, then back down at Matthew's letter. She looked up at the stars once more. A sense of calm came over her, the memories dancing through her mind.

"_It does trouble me. It troubles me very much."_

"_Maybe I'll shine by comparison."_

"_I'm sure Diamond doesn't disobey very often at all, but you'll be able to show him who's in charge more easily now."_

"_If you really like a good argument…we should see more of each other."_

Mary smiled.

"Yes, I suppose he always has, hasn't he? He's always believed in me, even when I gave him reason not to, even when it didn't benefit him at all to do so."

"So you'll go to London? To take care of this matter for Matthew?" Sybil asked.

"Yes, Sybil," Mary sighed, smiling at her. "He's asked me to be brave, and so I shall."

**Chapter 4: The Cold and Careful Lady Mary Crawley**

**Amiens, France, May 1918**

Matthew swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. He tightened his grip on the wooden pole in his hands, waiting for the command to come.

"Slowly, Matthew," Alex said, balancing his P14 rifle against his shoulder and peering through the small gap in the sandbags.

"I still don't understand why we keep doing this. You're a Major, for goodness, sake," Matthew shook his head.

"Captain," Alex warned, keeping his sight on the scope of the rifle.

"Yes, Sir," Matthew said firmly.

He raised the pole slowly, the papier mache mannequin head at the end of it creeping above the edge of the trench. Once extended, Matthew held it there. He held his breath.

"Steady, Matthew," Alex said.

A sharp hiss sounded above them and as Matthew jerked the pole back, Alex fired his rifle. Matthew brought the pole back down, a large bullet hole had obliterated the right side of the mannequin's head.

Alex pulled back his rifle and stepped back from the sandbags. He reloaded the rifle as his young batman came running over.

"Spotters confirm a kill, Major," the batman said, taking the rifle from Alex's hand. "Range is approximated at 620 metres."

"Have the men stand down. Patrols to resume as scheduled," Alex ordered.

"Sir," the batman saluted, then ran off down the trench.

Alex and Matthew walked in the opposite direction back towards the command tent.

"620 metres. That's short of your record," Matthew smirked.

"I'll have to ask the Germans to back up next time," Alex said in a bored voice.

They reached Alex's tent and relaxed slightly. Alex poured tea and handed a mug to Matthew. They went back outside, looking off into the far distance where smoke billowed across the field. They raised their mugs to each other briefly before taking a drink.

"Does Lady Mary have your instructions?" Alex asked, staring straight ahead.

"Yes," Matthew replied, looking up at the grey sky. "I wrote to her a week ago. She should be in London next month with any luck."

"And you're sure she can handle it?"

"I would rather she not have to go it alone," Matthew sighed. "But with both of us here, I don't see any other way. Murray would just make a mess of it, and I can't involve Robert."

"It's rather straightforward," Alex noted. "So long as she knows precisely when to change from the silk glove to the iron fist."

"I'm hoping he'll see reason and just give her up," Matthew said, taking another drink.

"In my limited experience, it seems that men have a rather hard time giving up when it comes to Lady Mary," Alex smirked.

Matthew looked down at the muddy ground, then back to the horizon. "Yes, Mary does inspire all manner of emotions in others."

"You do realize this is probably your only shot at it?" Alex asked quietly. "If she fails, Sir Richard will not permit another betrayal. He'll either force her into marriage as soon as possible or publish to punish her and be done with it."

"She won't fail," Matthew replied tersely.

"How can you be so sure he won't bite her head off and fling her out the door?" Alex asked.

Matthew looked at his commanding officer and smirked.

"When it comes to Mary, she's quite capable of doing her own flinging, I assure you."

Alex grunted.

"So we wait," Alex stated.

"We wait," Matthew affirmed, staring into the distance.

**Downton Abbey, England, June 1918**

"I'll need you to wake me early tomorrow morning," Mary instructed as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. "I'm going to London on the first train."

"Yes, Milady," Anna answered, continuing to brush out her Mistress' long brown hair. "You're going to visit Sir Richard?" Anna asked nervously.

"Yes," Mary sighed. "I need to speak with him and a letter won't do."

"You've come to a decision then?" Anna asked, finishing with the brush and beginning to braid Mary's hair.

"Yes," Mary said quietly, looking down at her hands.

"I'm very sorry that Vera Bates has caused all this trouble, Milady," Anna said sympathetically. "I wish she had never gone to Sir Richard in the first place."

"He would have found out eventually," Mary smiled wanly, eyes still focused down at her lap. "What's done is done. I'll just have to be brave about it."

Anna sighed, finishing Mary's long braid and tying a ribbon around it.

"Well he'll have an Estate house, and a place in London as well," Anna said. "Perhaps it won't be so bad, Milady."

"Perhaps what won't be so bad?" Mary frowned, turning around and looking at Anna.

"Oh, I meant no offence, Milady, forgive me!" Anna said with wide eyes.

"No, I'm not offended, Anna, but what do you mean?"

"Well you said that you've reached a decision, that you're going to accept Sir Richard's proposal," Anna said quietly.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort!" Mary shot back. "I'm going to London to see Sir Richard and tell him that I'm not going to marry him."

"Truly?" Anna gaped in astonishment. "Well, Milady, that's wonderful!"

Mary smirked at Anna's outburst.

"I'm sorry, Milady," Anna said quickly with wide eyes. "It's not my place, but Sir Richard is simply dreadful. Our opinion doesn't matter but both Mr. Bates and I find him very peculiar, almost paranoid really. When he tried to get us to spy on you for him we couldn't believe it."

"What?" Mary exclaimed in shock.

"Oh I didn't mean to speak out of turn, Milady! Whatever your decision is, I'll go along with it, of course," Anna recovered.

"No, Anna, that's not what I meant. What did you say? About Sir Richard asking you and Bates to spy on me?" Mary frowned at her.

"When he was last here, Milady," Anna explained. "He cornered both of us, and asked for us to keep watch on you and report back to him. He didn't make any specific mention of anything, but I thought he was somewhat suspicious of your friendship with Mr. Matthew."

Mary turned away, her eyes wide, Anna's revelation sinking in.

"Milady?" Anna asked.

"That will be all, Anna," Mary said shakily. "Please wake me in the morning. I'll have a light breakfast before heading to the station."

"Yes, Milady," Anna nodded and left the room.

Mary rose from her chair and curled up under the bedcovers. Her mind raced as she went over each detail of her time with Sir Richard, back to their first meeting through to his proposal. Every comment, every look, every action took on a new meaning for her now. Mary sighed and closed her eyes, banishing Sir Richard from her thoughts as she fell asleep to visions of Matthew's hands and lips on her body.

**Office of the Law Firm of Harvell, Carter & Lewis, London, England, June 1918**

"Good morning, how may I help you?" the cheerful receptionist smiled.

"Good morning. My name is Lady Mary Crawley and I was told to…"

"Here you are, Lady Mary," the receptionist responded automatically, reaching into a drawer under her desk and taking out a large brown envelope. She handed it to Mary, who took it with shaking hands.

"Major Lewis said that you are free to use the boardroom for as long as you wish. It's just across the hall there. I'll have tea brought in for you," the receptionist added, rising from her chair. "One of the associate lawyers is at your disposal if you should have any questions. He knows nothing of the facts of the situation, rest assured."

"Thank you," Mary nodded and walked briskly to the boardroom. She settled into a firm leather chair and carefully took the contents out of the envelope, spreading them out across the table.

The receptionist arrived with her tea and Mary thanked her politely before resuming her reading. She sipped the tea slowly as she glanced through the pages and photographs. Her eyes narrowed as she looked everything over, then re-read it to be sure. Her gloved hand reached out and moved the papers around, tilting her head to look at different photographs.

Mary finished her second cup of tea and packed up the envelope. She walked out of the boardroom, her eyes fierce.

"With that be all, Lady Mary?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes, thank you," Mary replied.

"Good day, then," the receptionist nodded.

"Oh, it will be," Mary smiled and left the office.

**Amiens, France, June 1918**

The shrill whistle blared across the field and Matthew sprinted for a crater to his right. He leaped into it, with William piling in after him as shells exploded all around them.

"All right there, Mason?" Matthew asked, pushing his back against the dirt mound and peering around, the shadows of the enemy looming in the distance.

"Never better, Sir," William gasped.

"I'll bet you'll never complain about another scolding from Carson again," Matthew smirked as he reloaded his rifle with a full clip.

"I'll take it with a smile from now on, Sir," William answered.

Matthew pointed to a trench further up the field where the Allied troops had massed.

"Crawley!" a voice shouted. "We'll cover you!"

Matthew looked back and nodded to the Canadian soldiers sitting in cover off to his left. The men leapt out from their position and charged forward, shooting across the field and drawing the enemy fire.

"Go!" Matthew snarled and sprinted for the trench, William crouching and running behind him.

They both dove into the trench and were helped along to a better position.

"Where are the Canadians?" Matthew barked.

"They're all right, Crawley," came the response. "They're in the advance position."

"Just another midday stroll, eh Mason?" Matthew smiled.

"Like walking in the Village, Sir," William smiled back, his face half covered in mud.

"Gas! Gas! Gas!" came the shouts along the line.

Matthew's eyes widened and he reached for the mask on his belt. He pulled it over his head quickly, then helped Mason adjust his own. A grey cloud flew across the field and Matthew looked up from the trench as it engulfed them.

The burning sensation that had unfortunately become rather familiar prickled his ears. Matthew took short breaths, holding the mask flush against his face.

Several of the soldiers bent down, cowering under the gas cloud as it floated above them. Coughing could be heard along the line, the soldiers looking around wildly.

William dropped to one knee, shaking his head.

"Get up Mason!" Matthew yelled, his voice sounding artificial as it was caught by his mask. He yanked the footman to his feet, then turned and did the same to other men crouched down.

"The gas is worst at the bottom!" Matthew called, pushing the men to their feet, then pointing his hand upwards.

The soldiers moved into formation, nodding to Matthew and waiting for his command.

Blinking fiercely, Matthew raised his hand, then closed it into a fist.

The soldiers jumped from the trench into the grey mist, running through the cloud. As the gas dissipated and lifted, Matthew fired at shadows coming towards him. The rest of the soldiers followed his lead, picking out targets from the cover of the cloud.

The soldiers teared forward, their lungs burning from a mixture of the gas and the exertion of running across the terrain. The enemy fell before them, unable to see them through the gas cloud until it was too late.

Matthew raised his hand to stop the charge as the Germans retreated and fell back. Taking over the enemy trench, Matthew removed his mask and looked up at the sky, breathing in the air and exhaling loudly.

"All right there, Sir?" William asked, crouched over, his hands on his knees, panting to catch his breath.

"Just like a stroll through the Village, Mason," Matthew sighed, swallowing to wet his parched throat.

**Office of Sir Richard Carlisle, Daily Express Newspaper, London, England, June 1918**

"Mary!" Richard beamed, coming out from his desk and grasping her by the shoulders.

Mary stiffened, but turned her head to allow him to kiss her cheek.

"What a pleasant surprise," Richard smiled, leaning back against his desk as Mary took a seat. She frowned as he did not move to go back to his chair, and instead stood perched over her.

"When my secretary told me that you called for an appointment, I was very pleased," Richard continued. "I'll clear my evening. We can have dinner."

"I noticed your secretary was different than the last one I saw when I was here," Mary noted, ignoring his dinner invitation.

"Yes," Richard frowned. "The last one had to leave town rather abruptly. Something about a family matter she had to deal with in whatever village she came from," he said coldly.

Mary's eyes narrowed. Everything he said took on a different meaning now that she was armed with the information that Matthew had given her.

'Anyway, on to more pleasant matters," Richard smiled, his mood changing suddenly to one of cheerful satisfaction. "Your timing is impeccable, my dear. I was going to have this be a surprise for you and your family, but now that you're here, there can be no harm in giving you a preview."

He fetched a large page from his desk and handed it to Mary, smiling devilishly.

Mary cautiously took the page and her eyes widened as she read it.

"What is this?" she asked icily, looking up at him in shock.

"Isn't it obvious?" Richard frowned. "It's the proof for our engagement announcement. I was going to have it published for next weekend."

"You haven't received Papa's permission yet," Mary said cautiously.

"That's rather old fashioned, don't you think?" Richard smiled, taking the page back from her and tossing it on his desk. "Besides, do you think I would be deterred if he said no?"

"I can't marry someone if Papa does not agree," Mary pointed out.

"I'm not just someone," Richard spat. "And I am certain that you would be able to make your Papa see reason. He would give his permission soon enough once he was made aware of all the facts, wouldn't he?"

Mary swallowed, holding his gaze firmly. "I believe you're overlooking an important detail, Sir Richard. I have not given you my answer yet."

"Haven't you?" Richard said, his eyes narrowing. "Forgive me, my dear, but it would seem to me that we have an understanding, and therefore our engagement and marriage is now merely a formality."

"An understanding, you say?" Mary pursed her lips. "And what are the terms of this understanding, may I ask?"

Richard frowned briefly, before resuming his calm expression.

"Well, I suppose speaking of such things is acceptable considering our special relationship," he smiled.

Richard leaned over, his face moving closer to hers. Mary held her ground, her fingers tightening around her purse in her lap.

"We both know your secret, Mary, don't we?" he whispered. "And we both know who's debt you're in now. I own your secret, my dear, and so I own you."

Mary kept her face neutral and willed her pulse to not run away from her.

"I will give you a life, Mary. I will give you a life that you can barely imagine," Richard snarled, his eyes roaming from her pale throat down to the swell of her chest covered by her coat. "Money. Power. Influence. With my ambition and your status, we will rule London on a scale that even your father has only ever dreamed of doing."

His fingers reached out and ran along her arm. Mary did not react, staring straight ahead.

"You will give me sons," Richard went on. "And they will be of noble birth by right, my true heirs who shall have all the doors of this country opened before them. You have no idea of the conquests we will make together, Mary."

"I'm sorry, Richard," Mary replied softly. He glanced at her eyes in confusion.

"I'm not sure how such a grand vision can be achieved through running newspapers," she said coldly, meeting his gaze.

Richard's eyes widened. His lips quivered slightly. Then he broke into a wide grin and a strange chuckle. He leaned back a bit, and Mary breathed in the air, claiming the space between them.

"Have no fear, Mary," Richard smiled. "I will handle all of it. The only thing you need worry about is being the sophisticated hostess that you already are. You'll have a staff to run our homes, and a generous clothing allowance of course. If you're to be on my arm, I must ensure you look regal in every way."

His eyes raked shamefully across her body, and Mary kept her eyes locked on him, her stomach churning as his lurid thoughts were very obviously revealed across his face.

"As for the power of newspapers, well, my dear you would be surprised just how influential we can be," Richard laughed. "The elite, the government, those who wish to wield power, they need me, Mary. They need me to spin their stories and deliver their messages and to tame the rabble into an adoring public. This War has changed everything, Mary. You'll see that everything I prophesised will come to pass. Families, empires, entire Houses that you would play in as a child will crumble and fall all around us. And I will resurrect their ruins as I see fit."

Mary kept her eyes calm, but her mind raced. She saw Sir Richard entirely differently now as he spoke of their future, using the same words he had done before. Before, she saw only the piles of money and the safety and security it offered in a world that had fallen into chaos. Now, as she looked upon him, his eyes dark and fiery, his lips curled into a snarl, his nostrils flaring as if he could inhale the power he craved from the very air itself.

"You'll see, my dear," Richard said, looking back down at her. "You'll see. The day will soon come when I will be able to pick the Prime Minister with a well written editorial, a timely column or a scathing condemnation. Barons, Earls, Viscounts, Lords, all of the peerage who scoffed at those of us who made something of ourselves will be rueing the day they looked down on a mere newspaper man."

Richard laughed to himself and Mary frowned.

"Why don't you spend the night?" Richard suggested, his demeanour changing in an instant. "You can tell your Aunt Rosamund that you've taken the night train back, and I'll have you back to Downton in the morning with no one being the wiser. We can have dinner, take in a concert perhaps. I can tell you all about our life together in greater detail."

Mary grit her teeth behind her lips, her anger boiling.

"I'm sorry, Richard, that won't be possible," Mary said shortly. "I told Mama that I would be back for dinner this evening."

"A pity," Richard said plainly. "Well I do appreciate you coming in just to give me your answer properly. Your lot certainly do enjoy making grand gestures, don't you?"

"Well it wouldn't be right to give you my answer over the telephone," Mary said, arching her eyebrows at him.

"No, I suppose not," Richard smiled. "Well then, I'll indulge your need for formality, _Lady Mary_. Consider this my official proposal. I want you as mine for the rest of your life. What say you?"

Mary looked him in the eye, memorizing his amused expression.

"No."

Richard frowned then shook his head as if he had been slapped.

"What did you say?" he hissed.

"My answer is no, Richard," Mary said, bracing herself. "I won't marry you."

Richard's eyes narrowed and he glared at her, his lips forming a thin line, his face colouring as blood rushed through his veins.

"You must be mad," he snarled.

"On the contrary," Mary replied calmly. "I believe I'm seeing things entirely more clearly now."

"Do you honestly think you have a choice in the matter?" Richard asked incredulously. "Your family can hardly withstand your scandal leaking into the cruel light of day, my dear."

"So you'll publish then, if I don't marry you?" Mary asked coldly.

"Of course!" Richard laughed mirthlessly. "To tell all of Europe the sordid tale of how you sucked the life out of a man in your bed? I wouldn't be able to print the papers fast enough to sell them."

Mary lifted her chin, his vulgar words as hard as any physical slap could hope to be.

"My God, Mary. Do you hear what you're saying?" Richard stared at her. "Do you understand what you would force me to do? I'm offering you a life far greater than you could ever hoped to achieve, scandal or not. What more can I do?"

"Nothing," Mary said honestly. "But you must see that we're not well suited. We'd never be happy."

"You won't be happy by the time I'm finished. I promise you that! I buy your filthy scandal from that wretched woman! I keep it safe from prying eyes! I should have had you sign a damn contract as well!" he said, his voice rising.

"Let me go, Richard," Mary said firmly. "I'm not meant to play the role you've set for me. I would only be miserable, and cause you misery in turn."

"And you don't think your life would be miserable without me?" Richard demanded. "Who will even look at you after I'm done milking your shame for all its worth, Mary? You'll have no one! You'll be a spinster holed up in that crumbling pile of bricks reading about all that I achieve, and cursing yourself for being so foolish."

"Let me go, Richard," Mary repeated. "It would be in your interest to do so."

Richard frowned and leaned towards her.

"And what do you mean by that, my dear?"

"I'm sure you're very well read on the _Defence of the Realm Act_ and its regulations?" Mary asked, her eyes boring into his.

"It dictates what newspapers can and cannot publish regarding the War," Richard said slowly. "What about it?"

"Well you'll have to excuse my ignorance," Mary said. "I'm not a politician, as you know, but the little that I have read about it leads me to believe that it's an offence against the Empire to leak sensitive military information or to spread false reports that could cause problems for His Majesty and the Army. Is that right?"

"To a degree, yes," Richard acknowledged.

"So it would be a rather serious problem, even a crime, if any newspaper was guilty of breaking this law, wouldn't it, Richard?" she asked innocently.

"I don't know what you're implying, Mary," Richard said quietly. "None of my newspapers have done anything against the War effort. We've been championing the efforts of His Majesty and the Army for years now. We were the first newspapers to have War Correspondents stationed with the Infantry. Brave men risking their lives at the Front just to report the truth to the British people."

"Yes, I have recently been made aware that you control many of the War Correspondents, Richard," Mary agreed. "But correct me if I'm wrong, the _Defence of the Realm Act_ would apply not only to leaking information on the British Army, but also on our Allies, correct?"

"I'm not sure," Richard said cautiously.

"I don't know for certain myself, of course," Mary continued. "But if information on the French Army, or the Canadian Army, or the Australian Army, were to be leaked, then whomever was found responsible would be in serious trouble, wouldn't they? Why, that person could even be charged with treason, couldn't he?"

"Perhaps," Richard frowned. "But all of my newspapers focus only on the British forces. We rarely say anything at all about the Allies."

"I'm sure you're very careful about what you say," Mary said icily. "Just as I'm sure you don't publish every detail that is sent back to you by your War Correspondents."

"No, we don't," Richard said. "Not all of it is of interest to the British public."

"No, it wouldn't be," Mary replied. "But some of the information, particularly the sensitive information that you are forbidden to publish, would certainly be of great interest to others, particularly if communicated in the strictest confidence."

Richard seethed.

"It sounds far fetched, I know, and I am grateful that you would never compromise your integrity to do something as wretched as to pass sensitive military information on our Allies to your contacts in Germany and Austria. A jaded cynic would say that prolonging this horrible War is actually a benefit to your newspapers. The public is demanding more and more stories on the War by the day, but I'm sure your higher prices and increased profits are just a coincidence. As a proud British patriot, you want this War to end as soon as possible, don't you, Richard?"

"Certainly," Richard snarled.

Mary removed a thin envelope from her purse and placed it on Richard's desk. Richard stared down at it as if it were a poisonous snake.

"Here's a contract for you to review, Richard," Mary said acidly. "I'm sure you'll have no problem understanding it. Once it's signed, you can have it delivered to the law office indicated on the cover page. So long as a signed contract is received within two days, the originals of the documents and photographs in the envelope will remain our secret. Ruin me if you wish, but it will cost you your empire."

Richard continued to stare at the envelope, his eyes wide and his teeth grinding.

Mary rose from her chair and turned towards the door. She reached for the doorknob with a shaking hand.

"You think you've won, do you? You think this will pave the way for your happy future with your precious Matthew?" Richard said, his eyes not leaving the envelope.

Mary stopped in her tracks, her back to him.

"Did you really think I would not find out that he released Lavinia months ago?" Richard asked quietly. "I know everything that goes on in this City, Mary. I hoped you would see him for what he was – a simple idiot begging for attention."

Mary shook, her breathing quickened.

"What I told you was true, my sweet Mary," Richard snarled. "Families will fall. The aristocracy will be changed forever. Do you think your family is invincible? Oh no, my dear. Your father is a fool, and you are a fool for following him. You will be ruined, Mary, if not by me, then by your own blind faith in the men around you. I was going to save you from all of that, Mary. I was going to lift you up out of the hell that your family will find themselves in soon enough. But you've sealed your fate now. Do not come crawling back to me when it all falls down. As much as I long to see you on your knees in front of me where you belong, I won't be merciful after this."

Mary whirled, her face angry and sneering. Richard gave her a sinister smile, delighting in bringing a reaction from her finally.

Mary stepped towards him. She reached into her purse and removed one last photograph. She placed it on top of the envelope, then turned and went back to the door, seizing the doorknob in her hand.

Richard stared at the photograph and gasped.

"I know what village you banished your former secretary to, Richard," Mary said over her shoulder, not even giving him the courtesy of looking at him. "I know what you were doing with her while you were supposedly being faithful to me, and I know the precise details of the family matter that she is being forced to attend to."

Richard grunted audibly.

"If you think the public will enjoy the tale of the Yorkshire slut and her dead Turkish lover, imagine what they would think of the mighty Baron of Fleet Street and his bastard child?"

"You don't have the spine for that, Mary," Richard choked out.

"Try me," Mary said, slamming the door behind her as she left.

**Amiens, France, June 1918**

"Sir, a message has come for you, Sir," William said, coming into the tent.

Matthew looked up from reading Mary's last letter. He sat up on the cot and took the folded paper from William's outstretched hand.

"A message? From where? There was nothing for me in today's mail," he asked.

"Major Lewis' batman brought it over. Said it was an urgent message from home, Sir. Came in over the field telephone."

"The field telephone?" Matthew's eyes widened. "Thank you, Mason," he said quickly.

"Sir," William nodded, stepping outside to give Matthew his privacy.

Matthew took a deep breath and unfolded the page. He read the brief message, then read it a second time, and a third, his eyes raking over the words again and again. His eyes grew wet and he gasped, trying hard to stop the tears from falling. He fell back on the bed, his body shaking.

He remembered everything. The memories flashed through his mind, one fading into another, a reel of images lit to the soundtrack of her voice.

"_I wouldn't want to push in."_

"_That's right. Perseus. Son of a God. Rather more appropriate wouldn't you say?"_

"_Oh Matthew, what am I always telling you? You must pay no attention to the things I say."_

"_You win. We are friends again."_

"_Of course I want you. Very much."_

"_If you want me, you can have me. We can…we can have this."_

"_I love you, you idiot of a man."_

Matthew lay back on his cot. His lips curled into a wide grin as he laughed heartily, loudly, gleefully. Blinking, he looked upon the page once again, the words burned joyfully in his mind.

_My darling Matthew, _

_It's done. He's signed it. I'm all yours. I anxiously await your safe return._

_Love always,_

_Mary_


	5. Love is like an Illness

**Previously:**

**Amiens, France, June 1918**

Matthew lay back on his cot. His lips curled into a wide grin as he laughed heartily, loudly, gleefully. Blinking, he looked upon the page once again, the words burned joyfully in his mind.

_My darling Matthew, _

_It's done. He's signed it. I'm all yours. I anxiously await your safe return._

_Love always,_

_Mary_

**Chapter 5: Love is like an Illness **

**Downton Abbey, England, June 1918**

The tea was hot and steaming. Mary nodded at Carson and gave him a slight smile as he finished pouring and went to organize her Papa's newspapers at the head of the table. Mary sipped the hot liquid gratefully as she looked out the window. She peculiarly had begun drinking her tea hot for several sips before adding the milk. She couldn't explain it but the heat seemed to infuse something in her, something pleasant.

"Good morning," Robert called as he walked in. "You're down early. Usually Sybil is the first."

"She's already come and gone," Mary smiled. "She had early rounds in the wards."

Robert shook his head and sat down, nodding as he took his first paper from Carson.

"Your Mama told me you went to London yesterday," Robert noted, taking a sip of his tea.

"Yes, I went to see Sir Richard."

"And has everything been settled?" Robert asked.

"It has. I told him no," Mary smirked to herself as she took another sip.

"Hmm," Robert said quietly as he read the paper. Mary looked over but he was shielded by the pages. "That's good," he said.

Mary bit her lower lip and smiled as she began eating her eggs.

* * *

Cora looked up as Mary came into her bedroom. Her eldest daughter walked over and sat down at the foot of her bed. Cora smiled and placed the finished breakfast tray next to her.

"O'Brien told me you left early for London yesterday," Cora began.

"I did," Mary replied, looking down at her lap.

"And you saw Sir Richard?"

"Yes."

"And did you make the right decision?"

"Yes."

"So you'll marry him then?"

Mary's eyes shot up and blazed. Her lip curled as she looked at her Mama defiantly.

"He's released me," she declared.

"On what terms?" Cora's eyes narrowed.

"On mine," Mary said confidently. "Or more accurately, mine and Matthew's. Matthew made me privy to certain information on Sir Richard that proved very useful in convincing him that his proposal should be withdrawn."

"Oh, Mary," Cora shook her head. "I hardly think that Matthew's petty jealousy is grounds to throw your entire future away…"

"He was unfaithful," Mary interjected.

"What? Who?"

"Sir Richard, obviously. He was carrying on with one of his secretaries, and God knows who else," Mary said.

"And you think that sufficient grounds to reject his proposal?"

Mary's eyes widened. "Of course I do!"

"You're hardly in a position to be judgmental, my dear," Cora frowned.

"Mama!" Mary gasped.

"That's not what I meant!" Cora rolled her eyes. "I'm simply saying that Sir Richard's indiscretions may not be sufficient grounds to keep him quiet about your secret."

"They are," Mary said imperiously. "He has numerous…indiscretions…and several other reasons to leave me alone."

"And you believe he'll truly let you go? He won't publish?" Cora asked dubiously.

"Yes," Mary nodded. "He's agreed to stay silent. I've given him a strong incentive to forget all that he knows."

"All right," Cora said slowly. "So you've turned down another suitor."

"I've come to my senses, yes," Mary replied.

"And where does that leave you, Mary? Alone again?" Cora asked.

"Mama, we're at War!" Mary cried, raising her hands in exasperation. "How can you think of marrying me off to someone at a time like this?"

"Having you settled is even more important because we are at War, Mary!" Cora retorted. "We don't know what world will be left when this horrible time finally comes to an end. I don't want you to have to face it on your own, or find you have no options available to you."

"I'm not on my own," Mary said plainly.

"Mary, not again," Cora sighed.

"Yes, again!" Mary spat. "I've been given another chance, Mama, can't you see? Everything that I made a mess of before, Matthew's proposal, not answering him right away, not telling him the truth, taking Aunt Rosamund's ridiculous advice, not stopping him from leaving the Garden Party, all of it! It can all be fixed now! I can have the life that I was meant to have years ago."

"And what life is that, Mary? A life waiting to see if Matthew comes back?"

"A life as Matthew's wife!" Mary snarled.

"You sound very sure of yourself when with each day comes news of another family losing a son," Cora said sadly.

"He'll come back to me, Mama," Mary said, her voice wavering slightly.

"So you'll wait until the War is over, and if Matthew survives, then you're sure he'll marry you?" Cora asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Mary stated.

"Mary, that could be years away!" Cora pleaded.

"What are you saying, Mama?" Mary frowned.

"If Sir Richard is not suitable for you, then perhaps there is someone else who is," Cora said quietly. "Someone with a position. Someone who can give you a life. Someone who's life isn't hanging in the balance each day at the Front."

Mary's mouth dropped open in silent shock.

"Don't look at me like that," Cora frowned. "I'm only thinking of you and your future."

"You would have me marry someone else?" Mary said in astonishment. "Who then? Who is this perfect suitor that you imagine? I've already rejected the Baron of Fleet Street. Perhaps there's a fifty-year old industrialist or Viscount somewhere out there who needs a wife?"

"Mary…" Cora began.

"No, it can't be that," Mary looked at her Mama suspiciously. "You would have already arranged a party in London if there was anyone there you had a lead on. So it must be someone you intend to invite over to take a look at me, to appraise the goods for himself."

"Mary…"

"But everyone eligible we know is already at War," Mary continued. "Which only leaves those too old to go fight, or those who went and…oh God!"

"Mary…"

"Strallan?!" Mary shouted. "You would throw me at him again?"

"I've been told he's just come back from the Front. I was going to have your Papa invite him for the Hunt next month," Cora said innocently. "It would be easy enough for you to apologize for your past behaviour towards him and start fresh."

"I can't believe you!" Mary rose from the bed in a huff and stomped towards the door. "After everything you've seen me suffer through for years, this is the scheme you come up with!"

"Mary…"

"It's Matthew, Mama!" Mary declared, reaching for the doorknob. "It's Matthew or no one else!"

Cora exhaled and rolled her eyes as her eldest daughter left the room.

**King's Cross Station, London, England, July 1918**

"Over here, Mason!" Matthew called, walking briskly across the platform.

"The train doesn't leave for another 20 minutes, Sir," William said, jogging to catch up to him, their bags slung over his shoulders.

"Of course," Matthew blushed in embarrassment. He stopped and took his bag back from the footman.

"I'm eager to get back as well, Sir," William smiled unabashedly.

Matthew shook his head and smirked in understanding. "Then let's get on this train, shall we?"

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1918**

Mary looked out the window of her bedroom, another evening descending upon the grounds. Her arms ached from working in the wards. One of the newer patients was having seizures and it took all the strength of her, Sybil and two attendants to keep him restrained long enough for Dr. Clarkson to administer the sedative. Having to watch the man shake and convulse before becoming stiff and still had almost caused Mary to retch.

"_It should be over by Christmas, so Matthew will be home in no time."_

She did not blame her Papa for his empty promise all those years ago. Indeed, most of the country felt the same way back in 1914. The Allies would destroy Germany and Austria-Hungary and the War would be over before it had even begun and life would resume, the might of the British Empire victorious once again. How foolish such bravado seemed now. They were all foolish about a great many things back in 1914.

She was lost in her thoughts, and finding it very difficult to be brave. She thought wryly that normally they would be in London for the Season at this time. How ridiculous it seemed to get dressed up and attend balls and parties with all that was happening in foreign lands.

Matthew's last letter was over two weeks ago, but even that seemed so long now, when things could change on the battlefield so quickly, a matter of days without word from him felt as an eternity. His words were gleeful and almost leapt from the page, such was his happiness at her news. She smiled wanly at the thought of him writing to her with a silly smile on his face.

Mary knew she couldn't be cooped up in her room or in the library during all of her spare moments, but she found it so difficult to do anything else but rest whenever she wasn't working. She was testy and impatient and altogether miserable to be around when she wasn't focused on her patients, and she had to stop herself from falling into old habits of snapping at Edith for no reason. She did summon her infamous cool shield to protect her and guard her emotions in check, but then a new patient would arrive, or she would hear about another casualty among the aristocratic families, or Sybil would say something meant to comfort her, and she would teeter on the verge of falling apart all over again.

The joy she felt when she left Sir Richard's office had abated last month, to be replaced by a dull nagging sense of dread that followed her every step. Her Mama's cold stares and days without news from Matthew did not help. She imagined it was much the same for him, and she tried to be strong as a result. He had it much worse than she did, of course, and he would keep faith in her as he faced whatever horrors confronted him each day. The least Mary could do was show him the same trust and not waver as the War dragged on.

She sighed heavily. It would be the same routine again this evening. She would dress for dinner, eat with her family, go through and play bridge with her mother and sisters, then retire to bed early. What was the point of talking casually or listening to music or reading idly when it only reminded her of who wasn't there? She had listlessly gone riding on her last day off, and while the weather was perfect and Diamond was eager, she ended her jaunt early, unable to shake the thought that the ride would be so much more fun if Matthew was by her side.

Her only consolation was his letters. They were quite frequent, considering he was an entire world away from her. Mary took great satisfaction in seeing her Mama's face whenever Carson brought her another of Matthew's messages from the Front. She would read them alone in the library or the sitting room, then read them again in her bedroom at night. Some of his thoughts were rather…bold…and she found that she looked forward to those lines with great anticipation, the memory of their evenings together often carrying her to sleep.

In her private moments Mary would sometimes wonder what spell Matthew had cast upon her to make her lose her composure so easily now at the thought of him. When Patrick, her virtual fiancé had departed on the Titanic, she had barely thought of him, not missing him at all really, even while attending his funeral. She looked more forward to a mere letter from Matthew than she did a visit by any other past suitor. She wondered if she would be able to handle his absence better if she could revert back to the old Mary, the cold heartless woman who could barely be bothered to look beyond her own nose at the world around her. Such thoughts always ended the same way – with her shaking her head with a wry smile. The old Mary? No, Matthew's love had banished that bitch quite conclusively.

The sun was setting in the distance, casting an almost childlike orange hue across the grounds. The first stars would begin blinking soon. She could see a few of them even in the distance with the sun almost dropping from the horizon. She then squinted and peered more closely. She realized that these new lights were not stars at all, they were in fact, yes, moving towards the house.

Mary frowned. Mama had not told her they were having guests this evening. She sighed again. Why entertain and make merry when the country was at War? She wondered which boring neighbours were invited this evening as she could see the motor pull into the driveway and stop before the entrance. Whoever it was, Mary would be polite as always, but if this was another of her Mama's schemes, the unfortunate gentleman was in for a rather rude surprise.

Mary wondered if she should start telling any man who approached her now that her fiancé was off at the Front. While technically not correct, she was supremely confident that it would be so eventually. Mary's eyes narrowed as she looked down and noticed the door of the car opening, and a strangely familiar figure stepped out. It was dark out now, with shadows playing across the grounds, and her breath caught and she blinked several times, her heart racing as she did not dare believe her eyes.

The door to her bedroom swung open suddenly and Mary turned away from the window to see Anna burst into the room. Her face was bright and she was grinning from ear to ear.

"Milady! I am so sorry to barge in like this, but you must come down! It's him, Milady! It's Mr. Matthew!"

_Matthew!_

Mary rose quickly and followed Anna out the door and down the hall. She hadn't taken the stairs that quickly since she was a child. She came to the landing looking over the great hall, and she heard voices. Her father was there, and she recognized Carson's baritone, and she began to cry as she heard the familiar tenor of his laugh and the figures came into view.

Mary gasped audibly. They all turned and looked up at her. Robert smiled and Carson and Mason looked down at the floor in deference. Matthew's face was star struck, he grinned foolishly, and Mary's lips mimicked his, smiling widely as she came down the rest of the stairs. Anna came back into the hall with Bates, standing off to the side, beaming at the picture before them.

"Ah, Mary!" Robert smiled. "Look who's arrived for dinner."

Mary swallowed and crossed the Great Hall with a practised step. Her heart fluttered and she held her hands together, trying to stop herself from leaping on top of Matthew in front of everyone.

"Cousin Matthew," she said politely. "What a wonderful surprise."

"Mary," Matthew smiled.

"Well, the dressing gong will ring soon," Robert declared. "Bates, you can see to Matthew. Mason, good to have you back, lad."

"Thank you, Your Lordship," William nodded his head.

"Come along, William," Carson called. "You're just in time for dinner service."

"Yes, Mr. Carson." William smiled at Matthew knowingly and followed the butler downstairs.

"Mary, go and tell your sisters that Matthew has returned and we'll see you all in the parlour," Robert ordered.

"Yes, Papa," Mary said, her eyes still on Matthew. She finally broke his stare and turned to go back upstairs, smiling to herself as she felt his gaze still upon her as she moved.

* * *

"How long will Mr. Matthew be staying with us, Milady?" Anna asked as Mary beamed into her reflection in the mirror.

"I don't know, Anna. I haven't asked him. I don't really want to know I think. I'm just glad he's back and he's safe."

Anna smiled. They finished dressing her for dinner. She picked out her blue dress that Matthew confessed he loved, and for the first time in months she took careful measure of her clothes, gloves, jewellery and perfume. Anna smiled as she noticed the change in her Mistress' behaviour. While they had not spoken of it, Anna knew that Lady Mary would want to know immediately when Mr. Matthew returned, and she was pleased to see she had not been wrong to alert her earlier.

When Mary came down, Matthew was dressed immaculately. He was not wearing his uniform, and she wondered why, but she didn't care. She went through to the parlour with him, keeping a proper distance. Sybil hugged him when she saw him, and Edith and even Cora greeted him warmly. Mary was too happy to care what her Mama thought or did. Mary looked at Matthew, trying to rest her gaze on his face, never looking away for fear he might disappear if she did. She was nervous, excited, overwhelmed and ridiculously happy all at once.

"I know it seems as though I was just here, but it's been months and I was able to arrange another leave by foregoing my weekend passes," Matthew explained to the family.

"You must have a very understanding commanding officer," Mary smiled.

"Yes," Matthew agreed. "Major Lewis is rather generous with his favours, particularly when he knows it's for a worthy cause," he smiled, catching her eye.

"Well it's wonderful to have you back," Edith smiled.

"How long can you stay, Cousin Matthew?" Sybil asked.

"A week," Matthew smiled. "My men can use a few days in Paris more than I can, so I won't have any weekends off after this, but it's likely I wouldn't be able to come back again until Christmas anyway, so it seemed like a good idea to come now."

Mary smiled. The dinner chime sounded and Cora called them all to go through. Mary slipped her arm into Matthew's automatically. Sybil smiled and Edith shook her head in amusement as they followed them into the dining room.

* * *

"Cigar, sir?" Carson asked, holding out the box in front of him.

"Not for me, Carson, thank you," Matthew said stiffly.

"That will be all, Carson," Robert nodded as the butler frowned, then retreated.

Matthew took a strong sip of brandy, grateful that the burning sensation calmed his nerves. His hand was shaking and he could not seem to stop it. His mind was racing and his eyes had been darting all around the room since dinner.

"Don't worry about Carson," Robert said, taking a sip of brandy. "You know how steadfast he is about tradition, and he doesn't understand the real reason that you don't want to smoke."

Matthew looked at the Earl and nodded in thanks. Cigars reminded Matthew of cigarettes. Cigarettes reminded him of the Front, and the Front reminded him of the horrors that he fought to keep as far down in his subconscious as possible.

"I don't know if Mary mentioned to you that she's rejected Sir Richard Carlisle's proposal," Robert continued.

"She did," Matthew replied evenly. "I must say I think it's a wise decision. I don't know if you agree."

"Of course I agree," Robert said quickly. "The man seemed to wear a constant sneer on his face, and always seemed so angry and hiding something. I don't want my daughter to be tied to someone like that for the rest of her days."

Matthew nodded, taking another sip of his drink. He blinked several times as he looked out at the darkness through the window. He reminded himself he was in Yorkshire, and that France was far far away.

"I know Cora would have wanted Mary settled, particularly with so much uncertain in these times," Robert continued, looking at his drink thoughtfully. "But I can't help but think that there should be more to my daughter's marriage than a convenient arrangement and the promise of money."

"I agree," Matthew said.

"I've noticed that you and Mary have been getting along these past few visits," Robert said slowly.

"We have," Matthew nodded, looking at the Earl.

"She was very worried when you were missing, you know," Robert said, appraising the young man before him who he had grown to love as a son.

"As was I," Matthew admitted. "I was afraid I would never see her again."

The silence lingered between them as they each absorbed his statement.

"I don't think it needs repeating, but you have my blessing, Matthew. You always have, you know," Robert said.

"Thank you, Robert," Matthew smiled, his mood lifting. "I did not count on it after all these years, but I would like to, very much."

"Then it is yours, Matthew," Robert smiled.

Matthew nodded and smiled as he finished his drink.

"Just promise me that you'll be good to her. She hasn't had enough of that in her life, and I think it may be more important than I originally thought," Robert said quietly.

Matthew looked at the Earl for several moments.

"Promise me that you'll take care of her until I return," Matthew said firmly, his eyes serious.

"I will, Matthew," Robert raised his glass.

"And I will, Robert, with your blessing," Matthew raised his glass in return.

The two men drank in silence. Each one lost in his thoughts. Each one filled with happiness.

* * *

There was no knock this time. Matthew blinked at the sound of his door opening and closing, his senses immediately awakening. He turned in bed, sitting up as the lamp on his bedside table suddenly came on, the glow from the fire now joined by the lamplight creeping across his bed.

"Sleeping without a night shirt?" Mary asked, smiling at him.

"It seemed unnecessary," Matthew smirked. "Why did you turn the light on?"

"I want to see you," Mary said simply, crawling into his lap.

They kissed hungrily, his hands moved up her legs and under her nightgown, resting across her hips. He groaned as she pushed her tongue into his mouth, her hands moving against his shoulders and shoving him back against the pillows and headboard.

His fingers tightened against her warm skin. He felt her nails across his back and shoulders as her lips moved to his cheek and neck. She bit his skin, causing Matthew to gasp.

His hands flew upward, removing her nightgown swiftly as her alabaster skin was revealed to him in the light from the lamp. His mouth was immediately upon her breast, and Mary rewarded him by tangling her fingers in his hair and moaning lowly.

They were both frantic and needy, every touch and taste only increasing their madness. It had been too long since their last time together, and they both knew it would be too soon before they had to part again. Matthew was shocked by Mary's desperation. Mary was surprised by Matthew's aggressiveness. Their bodies melted into each other as he pushed the blankets down his legs and she moved on top of him.

They were moving so urgently that Matthew groaned in disbelief when he felt Mary finally take him within her. Their eyes locked on each other, their breath mingled as they moved together. Mary's eyes fluttered shut as their pace increased, and Matthew willed himself to keep his eyes open, watching enraptured as she reached her release on top of him.

He held her close as she shook. His legs and arms were tangled around her, holding her as tight against him as he could, trying to lose himself in her scent and the feel of her skin upon his, her presence driving away all his fear, all his despair, and replacing it with a pulsing warmth.

"Is that all you've got, Crawley?" she growled, licking his ear.

Matthew grunted and turned them over, cradling her head protectively as he pushed Mary on to her back and covered her with his body. Her hands flew to his back, clutching at him as she pulled him into her. He grabbed her arms and pinned them to the bed on either side of her head, burying his face in her hair. Mary's lips found his cheek, her touch soothing his hot skin, her voice whispering in his ear as his movements upon her became faster.

"I'm yours, Matthew. I'm yours," she chanted over and over, her words calming as they washed over him.

Matthew exhaled loudly, his chest heaving as he reached his peak. His eyes found hers and he held himself still, his hard grip on her wrists relaxing as he slid his hands forward and their fingers intertwined. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing raggedly.

"I love you, Mary," Matthew gasped.

* * *

Mary found it difficult to concentrate as she went from bed to bed replacing the pitchers of water. She did not want to be working with Matthew's leave so limited. But she felt worse at the idea of not doing her job just so she could spend time with him. Ignoring the patients would not sit well with him, she expected, and so here she was, dutifully playing the nurse once more.

She felt a delightful spark in her chest as she thought of their private reunion of the previous evening. She had surprised herself at how…eager…she had been, both in going to his room and taking the lead in bed. It was all the more exciting when Matthew had matched her move for move. He was quite possessive, she remembered happily, recalling how he held her tight even after they had calmed down and how he refused to let her leave and go back to her room until the early morning hours.

"Nurse Crawley," a voice called from behind her. "I have a particular part of my body that I was hoping you would examine."

She turned and smiled as Matthew flashed her a cheeky grin.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment, Captain," she said with mock seriousness. "I can ask Sybil if she can give you a thorough going over if you like."

Matthew's mouth dropped in shock and Mary gave him a playful smile.

"How can I help you, darling?" Mary whispered.

"How soon can I lure you away from here?" he asked.

"Not until after luncheon, I'm afraid," Mary replied. "Where would you like to go?"

"Just a walk around the grounds," Matthew said. "I'd like to get out of this uniform and into some normal clothes."

"We can eat with the others, then go out," Mary smiled.

"Excellent," Matthew grinned.

Mary went back to her duties, going to check on the patients on the far end of the room. Matthew turned and headed briskly for the door, trying to keep his eyes focused on the exit and away from the injured soldiers all around him.

* * *

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Mary asked.

"What do you mean?" Matthew smiled.

"Well, it's your letters. They seem rather cheerful for someone who's at War," Mary said cautiously.

"I'm always in a good mood when I write to you," Matthew replied.

"I'm glad to hear it," she smiled back. "But I hope you know that you can count on me for more than just distraction. I know you're not allowed to discuss much of it, but I don't want you to keep everything that happens…over there…locked inside. It'll eat at you, you know."

Matthew sighed. "You don't need to know what's happening over there, Mary. I wish I didn't know oftentimes."

"That's why I wish you'd tell me," Mary implored. "I don't want to glorify it, or even discuss it outside of letters. But I want to support you, and that means taking the bad with the good."

"You do support me," Matthew said firmly, allowing her to sit down on their bench first. "All of your letters are a shining light in the despondency I face every day."

"I can't see how me telling you about my latest argument with Edith is much of a comfort," Mary rolled her eyes.

"It is, Mary," Matthew insisted. "To know that you're safe, that you're all right, that you're living your life, that life here at Downton is exactly the same, it all helps me. Even the mundane details, it all helps me escape for a little while."

"All right," Mary acknowledged. "If you do need to let anything out though, please know you can do it with me. I won't break, or shatter. I've seen my fair share of the impact of the War, you know."

"Yes," Matthew smiled, kissing her hand. "My very own Florence Nightingale."

Mary chuckled and looked out across the grounds, her hand joined with Matthew's, resting on his lap.

"It's strange, isn't it?" she mused. "Sitting here with you on a sunny day, it feels like we don't have a care in the world, as if everything that's happening out there can't touch us."

"In some ways, it can't," Matthew said, drawing her attention. "We're here. We're together. The world can wait for us."

Mary smiled, leaning over and kissing him chastely.

"Do you remember what I told you, that night of the concert, when you came to my room?" he asked.

"That you love me?" Mary smiled.

"Yes, and?"

Mary tilted her head in thought, then focused her eyes upon him again.

"That it's time we lived our lives together?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Yes," Matthew nodded. "So will you?"

Mary blinked. Her mouth opened in silent surprise. Matthew grinned at her until she found her voice.

"You must say it properly," she nodded. "I won't answer unless you kneel down and everything."

Matthew laughed. "I wouldn't dream of having you any other way."

Matthew rose from the bench and helped Mary to her feet. Taking her hands in his, he knelt before her. Mary's heart beat faster, and she could not stop herself from grinning widely.

"Lady Mary Crawley, I asked you to marry me once before," Matthew smirked. "And I will ask again a thousand times until I hear the answer that I've been waiting for. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

"Yes!" Mary answered gleefully.

Matthew rose from the ground and embraced her, kissing her firmly and pulling her tight to him. Mary laughed, smiling as the sun bathed them in light, feeling his arms around her and an overwhelming sensation of joy and comfort.

"Just so you know," Matthew smiled against her hair. "I did get your father's blessing last night."

"That was very proper of you," Mary laughed, pulling back slightly and looking at him.

"And I also got something else," Matthew said, smirking at her as he pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

Mary's eyes widened. Matthew opened the box, revealing a beautiful gold ring with a large round diamond.

"Matthew!" Mary breathed. "It's gorgeous! How did you have time to get this?"

"I may have saved one weekend pass to Paris for my own use," Matthew smiled, placing the ring on her finger.

Mary held her hand up to the light, the sunlight bursting from her ring in all directions.

"I love it," Mary smiled, kissing him and smiling. "Not because it's from Paris, and not because it's a diamond, but because it shows all the world that we're together at last, officially."

"Officially," Matthew nodded. "No turning back now."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Mary smiled, kissing him again.


	6. Be Safe

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1918**

Mary's eyes widened. Matthew opened the box, revealing a beautiful gold ring with a large round diamond.

"Matthew!" Mary breathed. "It's gorgeous! How did you have time to get this?"

"I may have saved one weekend pass to Paris for my own use," Matthew smiled, placing the ring on her finger.

Mary held her hand up to the light, the sunlight bursting from her ring in all directions.

"I love it," Mary smiled, kissing him and smiling. "Not because it's from Paris, and not because it's a diamond, but because it shows all the world that we're together at last, officially."

"Officially," Matthew nodded. "No turning back now."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Mary smiled, kissing him again.

**Chapter 6: Be Safe **

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1918**

Mary pulled on the reins and turned Diamond back, circling quickly, then easing into a trot. She smiled as she came alongside the second horse waiting for them. Her fiancé smiled back at her. Mary caught herself staring for a moment, his gaze never leaving hers. Her fiancé. He was her fiancé. She could say it whenever she wished, as casually or formally as she liked.

'Yes, my fiancé, Matthew Crawley, is currently a Captain in His Majesty's Army'

'This ring is beautiful, yes. My fiancé purchased it in Paris during a weekend leave, bless him.'

'I thank you for the invitation, however as my fiancé will be unavailable to accompany me, I cannot attend.'

Looking into those mesmerizing blue eyes that were now hers to look at as she pleased, Mary could not help but laugh at her good fortune. When she was younger, she was convinced she would marry for status. As she got older, she was resigned that she would only marry for money. Now that she was marrying for love, she never imagined that being engaged would be such fun.

"Ready for a proper gallop, Matthew?" her eyes twinkled at him.

"Take your mark, darling," Matthew smirked to her mischievously.

"Very well," she said confidently, patting Diamond's neck. "To that tree in the distance then."

Mary trotted Diamond over to an arbitrary starting position. Matthew brought his horse around.

"She doesn't think we can do this, boy," Matthew whispered, giving his horse a pat on the neck. "Let's show her, shall we?"

"Whenever you're ready, Mary," Matthew said, bringing his horse forward and level with Diamond.

"On the count of three, then," she declared. "1…2…3!"

They took off and Mary quickly pulled ahead. Matthew held his reins confidently and kept his horse within half a length of Diamond. Mary pushed her horse forward and Matthew matched her. After another minute, Mary was surprised to see him still keeping pace with her. She leaned forward and whispered to Diamond, waving her riding crop in his peripheral vision and urging her horse ahead. Diamond took off anew and Matthew smiled to himself as he allowed her to creep ahead by a length before he pulled her back, guiding his horse expertly over the slight rises of the terrain. Mary reached the tree first and they both eased up, allowing their horses to slow down gradually.

"A fine race, darling. Congratulations," he smiled at her.

Mary gazed at her betrothed intently. He seemed different to her somehow. He stood tall in the saddle, and the awkwardness that he showed when he first arrived at Downton years ago was gone. He had carried himself more than adequately in that race, which was new to her, and strangely exciting.

"You did very well, Matthew. Very well," she said with a smile.

They rode more casually for another hour before picking up the pace back to Downton. When they dismounted, they were both invigorated and she took his arm as they walked back to the house, laughing and chatting amiably, the blood still coursing through their veins from their exercise.

Mary found herself staring at Matthew as they walked. Now that they were engaged and she was allowed to look upon him, truly look upon him as much as she wanted, she found his qualities more pleasing than she remembered. His blond hair, having darkened slightly since he first arrived, was soft and lustrous between her fingers. His blue eyes, so bright and deep, seemed to look right through her whenever he wished. His chest and shoulders were broad and firm, the years of training and combat sharpening him into a tone and trim version of himself with which she was now intimately familiar. It was as if Mary was discovering a lovely painting or an engrossing novel was even more entertaining after a long absence.

"I thought I'd drop by Crawley House while you're in the wards this afternoon. I should check in on Molesley and Mrs. Bird. They must be terribly bored," Matthew said.

"They'll be glad to see you," Mary smiled. "You may want to get some fresh socks while you're there. I know you can never have enough."

"That's true," Matthew smiled. "I'll be back in time for dinner."

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Mary watched him walk down the driveway, then she turned and went into the house.

**Village Post Office, Downton Village, England, July 1918**

"We'll get that sent out right away, Captain," the smiling woman nodded to Matthew.

"Thank you," Matthew nodded politely, touching the brim of his military cap.

"Of course, anything for our fighting men!" she beamed.

Matthew swallowed and turned away after saying a courteous goodbye. Mary took his arm and walked out the door with him.

"Do you think she'll be pleased?" Mary asked.

"Mother? Of course she will be," Matthew smiled at her. "Why wouldn't she?"

"Well, I'm hardly her favourite girl in the world," Mary sighed. "Add to that the grief that Mama and Granny put her through before she left for France and she'll probably groan at the news that you've released Lavinia and chosen to marry me."

"I think Mother may have been even more angry at your throwing me over than I was," Matthew chuckled. He patted Mary's hand, smiling at her concerned face in reassurance.

"Darling, she'll be pleased. She'll be happy for us. Mother only wants what's best for me, and she would have wanted me to get on with my life after the War began. But once she learns that you broke things off with Sir Richard so we could be together, that will ease her concerns. She was never against you, you know. She was just concerned about whether you loved me or not."

"I did not give her much comfort in that regard previously," Mary said sadly. "And I hardly have done much better since. The last she saw me I was introducing a new suitor. Oh, Matthew," she sighed.

"If I did not know any better, I would think that my Mother's approval is more important to you than mine," he smirked.

"Of course it is," Mary teased. "I know I've already won your approval. It seems to me you've given me your approval every night this week," she said with a raised eyebrow.

Matthew blushed. "You're right," he admitted. "Although I refrained from including those particular details in my letter to Mother."

Mary rolled her eyes and a blush coloured her own cheeks. "Little did I know what a bawdy sense of humour was lurking behind such a docile face."

"It's from hanging around the soldiers," Matthew said innocently. "They're a terrible influence, you know. Young bachelors many of them, no regard for propriety at all."

"And yet you are their commanding officer," Mary pointed out. "Perhaps you've been affected by the adult materials you've been confiscating from their barracks and care packages from home?"

"It's a horrible task but anything for King and Country, darling," Matthew smiled.

Mary laughed and slapped him lightly on the arm.

"I do, you know," Mary said quietly after they had wandered in silence for several minutes.

"You do what?" Matthew frowned.

"I love you," Mary said, looking into his eyes. "I love you, Matthew, desperately."

Matthew smiled, stopping their stride and turning her to face him. He leaned forward and kissed her softly, his lips pressing against hers, and lingering upon them with meaning, intent and a promise.

"And I love you, Mary," Matthew smiled. "And I do know, although it pleases me greatly to hear you say it."

Mary laughed again as they resumed their walk. The turned a corner and Matthew frowned as he took in a sight that was new to him since his last leave.

"Mrs. Turner's husband died at the Front in March," Mary said quietly as they passed the closed store, the windows empty and the shelves bare. "She just could not keep the business going. She moved back to Liverpool and no one has come forward to lease the space."

"Times are lean," Matthew nodded as he looked over at the vacant space. "People are trying to keep what they have. No one is particularly ambitious enough to start a new venture with so much uncertainty around us."

Mary bit her lower lip, her brow furrowing slightly as she recalled prophetic words from her former suitor.

"Mary?" Matthew asked. "What is it?"

"I don't want to trouble you with it," Mary sighed, looking away.

"Mary," Matthew said firmly. "You'll trouble me more by not telling me about something that obviously concerns you."

"I was merely reminded just now of something that…Richard…said," Mary shook her head.

"And what gem of wisdom could that be?" Matthew frowned.

"He said that entire families, Houses that I knew as a child, would fall. Once the War was over, we would have our pick of them," Mary said bitterly. "And when I forced him to release me, he warned me," she continued.

"Warned you about what?" Matthew asked slowly.

"That I would be ruined by the men around me," Mary replied. "He said that Papa was a fool, and that so was I for trusting in him. I thought he was merely being spiteful and vindictive, but he always did seem to have the pulse of things like that, at least in London anyway. I never knew him to say anything without a reason."

"Sir Richard is many things, including spiteful and vindictive," Matthew agreed. "But he's right in that many families will fall, many already have. It's War, Mary. War changes things on a very large scale. I'm afraid that life as we know it will be changed forever, even after the War is over."

"You don't have to tell me that," Mary huffed. "I see it everyday. These recovering soldiers under our care, they'll never be the same again."

"Sir Richard was going to buy you an Estate house," Matthew mused. "Somewhere he could keep you, somewhere that you'd be comfortable, another Downton, but completely under his control."

"Yes," Mary nodded. "It was his way of endearing himself to me, and I'm ashamed to admit I liked the idea at first. With you inheriting Downton, I was afraid that I would be cast aside."

"Oh, Mary," Matthew sighed. "How could you believe that? Darling you always would have a place here as long as I lived, you know that."

"I know," Mary smiled. "But you know how stubborn I am. I wouldn't have enjoyed living on your charity. And truthfully, I wouldn't have enjoyed watching you go up to bed with another woman each night either."

Matthew chuckled, then resumed his line of thought. "Sir Richard would have bought one of those Estates out of administration for pennies on the dollar. If he couldn't give you Downton, he would try and give you something close."

"Well he knew we couldn't have Downton. But why he didn't expect us to just live in London exclusively, I don't know," Mary said.

"Because he didn't want to buy you an Estate as just a place to live," Matthew answered. "It's a symbol. You said that Sir Richard was almost obsessed with getting into Society."

"Yes, he was," Mary nodded. "Even during our last meeting he was going on about how our children would be of noble birth and all doors would be open to them." Mary shuddered at the memory.

"Then he did know something," Matthew said, his eyes narrowing. "He wanted to create another Downton for you, complete with an Estate, power, money, children and access to all of Society. That way, when Downton fell,"

"I wouldn't need my family anymore," Mary finished his thought, her eyes widening. "And I would be bound forever to Richard."

"Before the War, the Estate finances were in decent shape," Matthew said. "I haven't had time to look at them since, and I never went through them in detail."

"Do you think there's cause for concern?" Mary asked.

"I don't know," Matthew replied. "There's no reason to think that your father doesn't have things under control, but we do tend to take for granted that he's managing everything sufficiently. We never actually bother to find out what's really going on."

"Perhaps we should," Mary said.

Matthew looked at her. He held up her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

"Yes, darling. We certainly should."

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1918**

"When does Matthew's leave end?" Cora asked.

"Mama," Mary rolled her eyes and glared at her. "You know perfectly well that he's going back tomorrow. Tonight is his last evening here."

"The poor dear," Cora said plainly, looking across the room to where Matthew was speaking to Robert by the fireplace. "Well, at least he had the sense to propose properly before going back."

"Of course he proposed properly," Mary retorted. "When have you known Matthew to do anything otherwise? Or did you think we would elope?"

"Mary," Sybil said cautiously.

"The thought did cross my mind," Cora admitted without a trace of regret.

"Mama!" Edith exclaimed.

"We all know that Mary isn't always in her right mind when it comes to Cousin Matthew," Cora stated. "War has a way of making people desperate, and doing away with a proper wedding is oftentimes done with soldiers about to return to the Front."

"Even the kitchen maid, Daisy, and the footman, Mason, are waiting until after the War is over," Edith replied.

"I doubt your sister would take her cue from a kitchen maid," Cora smiled.

"I'm still sitting right here, thank you," Mary said. "If Matthew wanted to elope, I would agree immediately. As it stands, he hasn't asked."

"Mary!" Sybil said in shock.

"Don't worry, Sybil, you would of course be invited," Mary said pointedly. "But with my fiancé fighting a War, standing on ceremony hardly feels right."

"Well it's a good thing that one of you has some sense then," Cora replied coldly. "It would hardly do for the future Earl and Countess of Grantham to take out a marriage license like some common couple."

"Oh I don't know," Mary said calmly. "Perhaps going to City Hall in Manchester would be preferable. It would allow Matthew's relations to attend."

"Mary," Cora warned.

"Mama, we'll have a proper wedding," Mary sighed. "But if this horrible War drags on much longer, don't expect me to wait for your perfect ceremony. Matthew's next leave is likely to be at Christmas, and I have half a mind to reserve the Village Church and be done with it."

"Well Granny would enjoy that," Sybil said genuinely.

"She does love how the Village is decorated over the holidays," Edith agreed.

Cora rolled her eyes.

Mary smiled at her sisters.

* * *

"Yes, I'm afraid we've lost two stores in the Village in the last year, and the others are struggling as well. I've been holding back from collecting rents to help out some of the storeowners, and the tenants as well," Robert sighed.

"Of course," Matthew noted, his brow furrowing at this news. "Everyone understands that there are new realities that we face during the War. Hopefully everything will return to normal once this campaign is over."

"I expect so," Robert agreed. "It will take some time, but the rents will be caught up. We have to work together with these people, you see. It's always been this way for generations."

"You may need to look at other options, Robert," Matthew said carefully. "We don't know what we'll face when the War ends."

"Such as what?" Robert asked.

"Well rather than rely on rents for the majority of your income, you may wish to consider farming some of the land ourselves. Some of the tenants may no longer wish to continue if the economy stays the way it is and crops are not as profitable as they once were."

"Farm the land ourselves?" Robert repeated. "That's a rather ambitious plan."

"It's not without risks," Matthew conceded. "It's just a thought, anyway," he said quickly.

"We're better off going with what we know, Matthew," Robert stated. "But I do have some ideas. Some friends of mine are investing abroad. With Europe in disarray, it may be better to place our money in the New World, at least until things calm down a bit."

"I would be careful about that," Matthew said slowly. "The New World can be even more volatile than the Old."

"Well, it's just a thought," Robert smiled, taking a sip of his drink.

* * *

Matthew looked around the room, trying to memorize as much as he could. It was easy to picture Downton Abbey in his mind. The polished wood of the banister in the Great Hall, the tapestries in the drawing room, the feel of the sofa in the library. He breathed the air and blinked as the colours of the fabrics, furniture and art all around him filled his vision. He desperately wanted to be able to close his eyes and travel back here, to a familiar place of comfort in contrast to the cold and desolate place that was waiting for him the next day.

He sighed and edged his way to the doorway. All of the family were engaged in conversation. Robert and Cora were speaking with Violet. Edith was speaking with some neighbours who had come for dinner, and Mary was speaking to Sybil. Matthew gazed at Mary, smiling to himself. The idea that this beautiful woman would be his wife thrilled him. She laughed as Sybil must have made a joke and Matthew was glad. He wanted to remember her like this – smiling, laughing and filled with happiness, the harsh realities of the world unable to touch her. He took another look before the magnitude of the evening got to him, and he quickly stole away.

"Honestly Mary, I don't know how anyone could sit through French lessons. They say it's such a beautiful language but I just find it incredibly boring."

"Sybil, darling, you have to give it a chance," Mary smiled at her sister. "When you get the hang of it, French can actually be rather useful, and it is poetic when spoken properly."

"I doubt I'll ever make use of it," Sybil grumbled.

"Perhaps you need to hear it spoken as it should be, rather than by a governess. Matthew's French is lovely in fact. I'll have him show you."

Mary looked up from the sofa to where she had seen her fiancé speaking earlier with her Papa. She frowned. He was not standing with her Papa any longer. She scanned the room, her face showing concern as she could not find him anywhere.

"Mary?"

"Matthew must have gone to get some air," she said, not looking at Sybil as she continued to look around.

"Well I don't need to hear proper French that urgently," Sybil noted.

"Nonsense. You'll gain a new appreciation when you hear it how it was meant to be spoken. I'll go fetch him. Stay right here," Mary ordered.

Mary rose and left the room. As she walked down the hall, she grew nervous. It wasn't like Matthew to leave without telling her, or making his excuses to her parents. Had he retired early? Where was he?

"Carson," Mary asked, approaching the butler as he was carrying another tray back to the drawing room. "Have you seen Mr. Crawley?"

"Yes, my Lady," Carson nodded. "He went out to the Rose Garden."

"Thank you, Carson," Mary nodded, and headed off briskly in the direction of the rear doors.

She spotted him through the windows, standing outside. Frowning, she made her way out to join him.

"Matthew? Darling, I was wondering where you had gone off to."

She came outside towards him and he smiled at her. She calmed slightly at seeing him smile, but she was still perplexed as to why he had come outside.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I was just looking at the stars."

"They are bright this evening," she remarked, looking up.

"Hmm…"

She looked at him quizzically as he stared up at the heavens. His hand reached out and she took it, squeezing his fingers as her glove wrapped around them.

"I've developed a rather unfortunate distrust of the night," he said quietly. "The darkness, the shadows. Here at Downton it's fine. Here with you, the night doesn't seem as threatening as it does elsewhere," his voice trailed off.

Mary squeezed his hand again, stepping closer to him. He looked at her and drew her into his embrace, kissing her forehead as she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Dawn is probably the most peaceful time," he continued. "Dawn wipes away the darkness. And even though the day ahead may be dreary, or worse, dawn is a sign that another day comes and that perhaps I'm closer to going home."

She ran her hands along his chest, trying to soothe him.

"But now, Mary," he continued, "now that we are engaged, and I'm home with you, I find that I am dreading the dawn. This night is not yet over, and we still have some time left to us, but in the daylight of tomorrow, I'll have to go, and even though we've known about it for a while now, I find myself hating the coming dawn."

"Oh Matthew, me too, darling," she kissed his cheek. "It's selfish of me to say it, but I wish you could stay. I hate that you're going back there."

Matthew held her close. He hated the fact he was leaving as well.

"I am very proud of you, Matthew," Mary said softly. "I know that you're doing all that you can. But I'm finding it very difficult to be patriotic with you away for so long. I just want this to be over and for you to be back as soon as possible."

"I know, Mary," Matthew whispered, holding her close. "I know."

"Come," she said firmly, stepping back and pulling him by the hand back towards the house. "You said yourself that this night is not yet over. We are going to enjoy it for as long as we can."

He smiled at her, squeezing her hand as they went back inside.

* * *

"I want you to do something for me," Mary whispered, her fingers sliding from his shoulder down across his chest.

"Anything, darling," Matthew groaned, his arm warm against her bare back.

"First, lie still," Mary smiled wickedly. "You must behave, at least for a few more moments."

Matthew groaned anew, trying to keep himself from lunging on top of her.

"I know you're leaving tomorrow, and though I hate to say goodbye to you at the train station, I try and remind myself that you'll be back in a few months and that helps me, a small bit," she smiled.

"I count the days, you know," Matthew said softly. "Every day that passes I check it off on a small calendar that Alex gave me months ago. Tearing each completed sheet off is one of the small pleasures I look forward to."

"Well, I want you to take me with you back out there," she said.

"What?" Matthew frowned.

"I know I can't go with you, but I want to be out there with you, to give you some comfort," Mary explained.

"You are, darling," Matthew smiled. "I think about you often, and re-read your letters and carry your toy dog."

"I know," Mary nodded. "But I want you to have a more substantial memory than that."

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, finally coming to his lips and pressing her mouth firmly against him. Matthew closed his eyes and tasted her.

"Remember my kiss, Matthew," Mary whispered, kissing his throat and shoulder, then licking his chest. She smiled against his skin as he sighed at her touch.

"Remember my touch," she continued, stroking her hand down his chest and across his firm stomach. Matthew tensed, then breathed out loudly as she closed her fingers around him, first teasing him lightly, before sliding along him with greater purpose, bringing out the reaction that she now knew so well.

"Mary," Matthew gasped, his eyes closed and head turning towards her.

"Remember that I love you, Matthew," Mary said, her lips almost touching his. "Remember that I'm yours. Remember that I'm waiting for you, darling. I'll be here when you return. I'll be here and we'll be together, as we were always meant to be."

Matthew swallowed, his breath quickening, his hand sliding along her back, pulling her closer to him.

Mary deftly moved on top of him. Matthew's eyes shot open in surprise, his mouth opening in shock as their shared heat enveloped him. His hands moved to her hips and his eyes met hers. Mary leaned down and kissed him firmly, her hands moving through his hair. She pulled away and pressed her lips to his shoulder, gasping as she increased her pace and he began to move with her.

"Mary," Matthew breathed out, his arm coming across her waist, his other arm moving up her back, his fingers splaying across the nape of her neck their bodies pressed together.

Mary breathed against his skin, gasping and kissing him, crying out as her senses blazed as she released on top of him. Matthew moved against her again and again, holding her tight in his embrace as he reached his own peak.

Their hearts pounded against each other, the heat of their bodies seeming to cover them completely as their breathing calmed and they kissed languidly. They were no longer in her bedroom at Downton Abbey. They were no longer bound by rules, family, War, obligations or expectations. There was no danger. There was no fear. There was only them. Mary and Matthew. They were in their haven, their sanctuary, just the two of them, filled with each other as they willed time to stop and the coming dawn to hold back a while longer.


	7. It Can't be Long Now

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, July 1918**

"Mary," Matthew breathed out, his arm coming across her waist, his other arm moving up her back, his fingers splaying across the nape of her neck their bodies pressed together.

Mary breathed against his skin, gasping and kissing him, crying out as her senses blazed as she released on top of him. Matthew moved against her again and again, holding her tight in his embrace as he reached his own peak.

Their hearts pounded against each other, the heat of their bodies seeming to cover them completely as their breathing calmed and they kissed languidly. They were no longer at Downton Abbey. They were no longer bound by rules, family, War, obligations or expectations. There was no danger. There was no fear. There was only them. Mary and Matthew. They were in their haven, their sanctuary, just the two of them, filled with each other as they willed time to stop and the coming dawn to hold back a while longer.

**Chapter 7: It Can't be Long Now **

**Amiens, France, August 1918**

"Major Lewis, another one's arrived," Alex's batman announced.

Matthew and Alex looked up at a young man giving them a crisp salute. They returned the gesture and he came inside Alex's tent, joining the other men gathered around the table.

"Lieutenant Campbell, at ease. Please to meet you. This is Captain Crawley. He'll be with you tomorrow morning," Alex said curtly. "Matthew, Lieutenant Campbell, Canadian 1st Division."

"Lieutenant," Matthew nodded.

"Captain," Lieutenant Campbell nodded back. "It will be good to have you and your boys with us tomorrow, sir."

"Well if your men are half as good as they were last week, my fiancée will have far less to worry about," Matthew replied.

They gathered around the table in Alex's tent as he explained the manoeuvres, referring to several coloured pins on the map, and pointing out different positions. They nodded and remained quiet, the gravity of the coming day sinking in.

"Gentlemen, I do not need to impress upon you how important tomorrow's offensive will be," Alex said, looking each of them in the eye as he glanced around the table. "As we all know, this is not a raid, but a much larger scale attack. Months of planning have gone into this first strike tomorrow. Our goal is simple – push the enemy back and by doing so, open up the rail lines. If we win a narrow victory, we shall gain valuable ground against the Germans. But, gentlemen, if we succeed entirely, we will gain a significant advantage towards possibly ending this War once and for all."

Alex paused, noticing the frowns and creased brows that greeted his news.

"Nothing is won overnight," Alex said calmly. "But much can be lost. If you wish to go home; if you wish to see those you love as soon as possible; then do your jobs tomorrow. Win the day, gentlemen. Win the day, and you shall be a step closer to home."

Alex allowed his words to linger before dismissing the men. They all saluted and nodded to each other, filing out of the tent one by one, their eyes showing all the possibilities that danced in their minds at what tomorrow may bring.

"Matthew," Alex called quietly.

Matthew turned and looked at him from the doorway.

"Try not to get lost tomorrow, will you? I can deal with Germans and Austrians and Turks. I would rather not have to deal with an irate Lady Mary."

Matthew's eyes widened in surprise, then he composed himself and shook his head.

"Yes, Sir, Major, Sir," Matthew nodded, exchanging a smirk with Alex and leaving into the night.

**Downton Abbey, England, August 1918**

"Mary, what do you think of this?" Cora asked, handing Mary a piece of paper. "I spoke to your Aunt Rosamund and she expects it can be in the Times for next weekend."

Mary glanced at the paper and rolled her eyes. "An engagement announcement, Mama? Is this really a priority right now?"

"Well you yourself told me that Cousin Isobel has approved," Cora replied.

"Yes, she was kind enough to write to me and give us her blessing. A blessing that she would be entirely justified in withholding, I might add," Mary said pointedly.

Sybil smirked at Edith in understanding.

"It was her son's decision," Cora noted. "She can hardly object to that. My point being that now that she has given her blessing, we should publish the banns. It's what's expected, Mary."

"I hardly think what's expected has the same meaning in times of War, Mama," Mary sighed.

"Mary you continue to confuse me. I thought you'd be thrilled to announce your engagement to Matthew formally," Cora said.

"I am thrilled!" Mary retorted. "But I hardly think crowing about my engagement is proper when my fiancé is risking his life each day. When Matthew returns and I know he is safe, we can do all manner of wedding planning. For now, my thoughts are with him, and something as unimportant as publishing wedding banns can wait."

"You weren't this difficult before he released Lavinia and told you he loved you," Cora huffed.

"I wasn't a lot of things before then," Mary said enigmatically.

Sybil smiled and Edith shook her head.

"Fine, I will hold off for now. But I'm writing to our friends to tell them the news. If you are to be married by Christmas, Mary, then preparations must be made. A proper wedding cannot be planned overnight," Cora warned.

"Suit yourself," Mary replied drily. "Matthew and I will be married when he next returns. The precise details are not important."

"Did Cousin Matthew say when he was returning next, Mary?" Sybil asked.

"No, darling," Mary smiled. "He can't know this far in advance. He says that events are changing all the time now at the Front. He can't be sure where he'll be or what he'll be doing from one day to the next."

"So you don't know where he is, then?" Edith asked.

"He can't say," Mary answered. "He was last in France, but who knows if he's moved on from there or not. His last letter mentioned that he may not be able to write for a short while. He didn't elaborate."

"All of that secrecy makes things sound quite serious," Edith remarked.

"It is," Mary nodded, picking up her tea cup and taking a long sip. She looked out the window at the fields in the distance. "Quite serious, I expect."

**Amiens, France, August 1918**

Matthew huddled with his men in the cramped compartment. The noise of the engine was deafening, which was welcome as it drowned out the noise of bullets pinging off the armour all around them.

"Not what you're used to, is it, Sir?" Lieutenant Campbell smiled at him.

"Not what I would prefer as a mode of transportation, Campbell!" Matthew shouted back. "But if it keeps us shielded from enemy fire, it'll do!"

"We've reached the third objective!" A shout came down from the driver. Matthew nodded to Lieutenant Campbell.

"Guns ready!" Matthew called to his men. The soldiers steadied themselves as their tank pitched to and fro across the rough terrain. Matthew turned to William, sitting beside him.

"Stay with me, Mason," Matthew said. William nodded back to him.

"Go! Go! Go!" Matthew yelled.

The compartment door opened in the hull of the tank and the dull light of day streamed towards them as they ran out. Gunfire sounded all around them as the British and Canadian forces returned fire at the enemy, allowing Matthew and his soldiers to run out.

"Right! Right!" Matthew screamed, sprinting across the field towards a row of tents in the distance.

Matthew aimed and fired as he ran, barely stopping as he saw German soldiers retreating before them. He led his men down a slight hill, the combined firepower of the Allies overwhelming the lines of German soldiers in front of them. Matthew glanced all about, his eyes wide and his heart racing. He looked for any sign of a counter offensive, of an ambush, of the enemy rallying and coming back towards him. As he cautiously led his men towards the enemy tents, he was shocked to see no one rising to oppose them.

Raising his hand, Matthew crept silently towards the larger command tent. He pointed for his men to disperse to the two separate entrances. Standing to the side of one door, he looked over at Lieutenant Campbell and his men stationed across the doorway from him.

Nodding to Campbell, Matthew curled his fingers into a fist. With a yell, the British and Canadians raced into the tent, guns raised.

Matthew pointed his rifle squarely at the stunned face of a German officer seated at a long table. His men surrounded them quickly, guns drawn. The Germans rattled tea cups and dropped forks on to their plates, staring all around them in shock.

"Do you speak German?" Lieutenant Campbell asked Matthew, his eyes locked on the enemy officers who sat motionless with their hands raised above their heads.

"I don't think we need a translator to tell them what their predicament is," Matthew smirked.

"Assemble them outside and have them escorted back to Amiens," Matthew ordered. His men quickly moved to comply and the German officers were rounded up and shuffled outside the tent.

"Seems a shame," William said, causing Matthew to look at him quizzically. "I meant that we interrupted them in the middle of breakfast it seems," he smiled, nodding towards the unfinished plates of eggs and sausages.

Matthew rolled his eyes and smirked, nodding for William to leave the tent.

"How very rude of us, Mason," Matthew chuckled.

**Dower House, Downton Village, England, August 1918**

"Mary," Violet smiled. "Come in, come in."

"Hello, Granny," Mary nodded, taking a seat and accepting tea from the butler.

"Has there been news from Matthew?" she asked.

"I received his latest letter yesterday," Mary nodded. "He sends his regards. He says that things have been going very well, but he couldn't elaborate."

"No, of course not," Violet agreed. "But that is good news."

"Yes," Mary agreed, sipping her tea.

"And I expect that your parents are eager to see you married upon his next leave?" Violet asked.

"I'm the one that's eager," Mary smiled. "Papa is staying out of it, and Mama just wants it all to be done properly whenever it happens."

"That is an improvement over what she previously thought," Violet chuckled.

"I didn't give her much choice in the matter," Mary smirked.

"Your mother can do one thing well," Violet said. "She is as adaptable as a chameleon. She knows what rules to follow in any given situation."

"Sometimes at the expense of what is right and wrong," Mary huffed.

"Perhaps," Violet smiled.

"I wanted to ask you something else, actually," Mary said, putting her tea cup down. "It's about Grandpapa."

"Goodness, have you found another skeleton?" Violet smirked. "I thought I'd cleaned them all out, or buried them."

"No, nothing like that," Mary smiled. "It's just that I was thinking about how fortunate he was to have Mama's money to invest in Downton."

"Yes, yes, quite fortunate," Violet agreed. "Times were tough back then. The Levinson money was most welcome, far more than the family behind it, I can tell you."

"Granny," Mary rolled her eyes.

"Oh, do not misunderstand me. Your Mama and I have become friends, much to my surprise. It's her mother that is a different story," Violet said pointedly.

"Well Grandmamma likely won't be able to make the crossing for the wedding, so you'll be pleased to hear that," Mary noted.

"That's the best news I have been told all day," Violet said completely seriously.

"But once Grandpapa had Mama's money, did he change anything about the way the Estate was managed? Did he do anything to ensure we wouldn't be in the same predicament again?" Mary asked.

"You must know, Mary, your Grandpapa shared very little with me about Estate management. It wasn't my place to know, he would say. I would venture that he shared almost as little with your Papa, in fact. He was very stubborn. I think that's where you get it from," Violet smiled.

"Possibly," Mary smiled back. "It just seems strange though that we haven't done anything to change with the times for decades."

"Well, when your husband is the Earl of Grantham, he can change all manner of things as he wishes. That's his right," Violet said.

"Certainly, but I'm concerned about what will be left to rule over once that day arrives," Mary replied.

"If you are worried, Mary, you should speak to your Papa," Violet said.

"I think Matthew already tried, with predictable results," Mary answered. "I don't want to step on Papa's toes."

"My dear, when it comes to Downton and trying to change tradition, I can assure you that a great many toes will need to be stepped on if you are to ever get anything done," Violet looked at her seriously.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Mary sighed.

"You're a Crawley woman," Violet smiled. "That's a better start than any."

**Saint-Mihiel, Lorraine, France, September 1918**

"Eyes open, men," Matthew warned, looking around as they walked through the worn paths.

With the air calm and no sign of the enemy, Matthew's soldiers spoke casually as they moved forward.

"The Americans certainly did a number on them, didn't they?"

"The Germans were already retreating. They were sitting ducks, they were."

"A bit too enthusiastic though. They left their supplies behind trying to push forward."

"That's why they couldn't take Metz. Bunch of arrogant bastards, if you ask me."

"Come on, Wakefield. How can you have a go at them when they blazed the living daylights out of the Germans? We're lucky to have them on our side."

"Nice of them to join in after we've been slogging through the muck for 3 years."

"Quiet!" Matthew ordered, his eyes narrowing as he noticed movement in the distance.

"Mason," Matthew called. "Do you know what that building is on the hill?"

"Looks like a Church of some kind, sir," William answered.

"More precisely, a Benedictine Abbey," Matthew replied. "One that should be abandoned."

"Did you see something, sir?"

"Yes, Wakefield. There's someone up there. We'll circle around beyond the road and come up on the back of the hill. It could just be refugees seeking shelter when the Americans began their bombardment. Let's find out for sure," Matthew said.

Quickly and quietly, Matthew's soldiers ran across the field, avoiding the road leading up to the Abbey and moving to the back. A rock-strewn hill rose before them ending in a low wall. The towers and glass windows of the Church stood behind the wall.

Pointing to several spots along the wall, Matthew sent his men up the hill, moving along to the side himself with William. They reached the wall without encountering anyone and circled around to the courtyard.

"Seems deserted, sir."

"Seems that way, yes," Matthew answered, frowning.

They walked into the Abbey and went from room to room as quietly as possible, deeming the Church and the living quarters clear and empty. Matthew couldn't help but smirk as they moved through the large building.

"Almost feels like home, doesn't it, Mason?" he asked.

"I'm half expecting Mr. Carson to jump out and scold me for tracking mud across the floor," William smiled.

They gathered in the large library, or what was once the library, empty and broken shelves greeting them as they came in.

"All clear, sir. Whatever it was that you saw, it's gone now."

Matthew looked around, staring at the empty shelves, the floor covered with dust and decrepit furniture.

Matthew suddenly raised his hand for silence. His men immediately complied. He stepped gingerly behind an empty shelf and pointed to a fallen tapestry across the floor.

They surrounded the spot, guns drawn.

"Mason," Matthew whispered. "Seems strange that we're in a library and not a single book can be found, wouldn't you say?"

William nodded.

Standing off to the side, Matthew reached down and pulled the tapestry back off the floor.

His soldiers gasped in surprise.

A large trap door was built into the floor, its wooden planks and large metal handle untouched by dust.

"Wakefield," Matthew said. "Take Thompson, Millar, Cavendish and Wiggins and go down to the stables. Wait for us there."

"Yes, sir," Wakefield nodded and the men dispersed.

Matthew lifted the trap door to reveal a set of stairs leading downward. He led the rest of his troops into a narrow hallway. Lighting torches, the British moved quickly along, hearing nothing but their own footsteps.

Eventually, they noticed daylight in the distance and came out into the musty interior of the Abbey stables.

"Captain!" Wakefield called. "How did you know the passage came here, sir?"

"Just a guess, Wakefield," Matthew said. "There's usually a secret passage or two in old buildings like these. They built them as an escape route, but I think someone may have used it for an entirely different purpose."

"Over here, Captain!" Wiggins called. "Tracks! Fresh ones too. Looks to be one horse and a wagon."

Matthew came over and inspected the tracks in the mud leading away from the stables.

"That was what I saw," Matthew nodded. "The Americans came through, but in their haste to get to Metz, they didn't bother to inspect this place, and why would they? It's supposed to be abandoned and even looks that way at first glance."

"What should we do about these tracks, Captain?" Wakefield asked.

"We follow them," Matthew said.

It did not take long for Matthew and his soldiers to catch up to their quarry. Deep in the forest, they easily surrounded and captured six German soldiers leading a horse and wagon piled high with paintings, sculptures and dozens of books taken from the Saint-Mihiel Abbey. Facing a squad of British soldiers, the Germans surrendered on sight.

"Do you think this lot is worth anything, Captain?" Wiggins asked, looking over the wagon of artifacts.

"Most likely," Matthew replied. "But not to us."

Matthew's soldiers escorted their prisoners and the stolen treasure back to the British command position. Matthew turned over the wagon to the French military for safekeeping.

"Thank you, Captain," the French Lieutenant nodded to Matthew. "We'll make sure these are secured until we can restore them back to the Abbey."

"It was our pleasure," Matthew nodded.

Matthew and William walked back to their tent. The shape of Saint-Mihiel Abbey still visible in the distance.

"It was kind of nice, being in an Abbey today, wasn't it, Sir?" William asked.

"Yes, it was, Mason," Matthew smiled. "Very nice."

**London, England, September 1918 **

"The benefit to this dress is that the sash across the waist makes it far less bulky and more sleek," the dressmaker cheered as she motioned to the fabric laid across the table.

"That's very nice," Cora smiled. "What do you think, Mary?"

"It is quite nice," Mary said politely, offering nothing more.

Sybil and Edith looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Please give us a moment, Mrs. Wilson," Cora smiled.

"Of course, Lady Grantham," the dressmaker nodded and went into the back of the boutique.

"Mary," Cora frowned. "This is the fourth boutique we've been to today and the twelfth dress you've seen. A little more enthusiasm would be appreciated."

"I'm sorry, Mama," Mary sighed, looking at the dress again. "I just can't be interested."

"Get her home right away, Mama," Edith smiled. "Mary must be coming down with a fever. She suddenly doesn't want to shop."

Sybil laughed.

"Any of these will do," Mary huffed, ignoring Edith's remark. "But none of them are particularly…I don't know…special."

"Special?" Cora repeated.

"Yes," Mary nodded. "It's my wedding day, Mama. Some of the details I can do without, but my dress…it's the first thing that Matthew will see when I come into the Church. It has to be…special."

"Mary," Sybil smiled. "Cousin Matthew will be dazzled with anything that you wear."

"I dare say that the wedding dress won't be what he is most looking forward to seeing you wear that day," Edith laughed.

"Edith!" Cora scolded her. "Don't be so vulgar!"

Mary turned away and bit her lower lip to contain her smile.

"All right," Cora sighed. "We'll keep looking. But, Mary, you must decide, and soon."

"Yes, Mama," Mary smiled.

Cora walked away to go fetch the dressmaker.

"Considering what you've gone through to get your groom, choosing a dress should be child's play," Edith whispered.

"You don't know the half of it," Mary said lightly.

"It is so exciting, isn't it, Mary?" Sybil smiled. "It's so close now! Cousin Matthew just needs to come back and you'll be married!"

"Yes, Sybil, it is very exciting," Mary nodded, turning her head and looking at the silk dress laid out before her once again. Her fingers automatically rubbed her engagement ring.

"Matthew just needs to come back," she whispered.


	8. Where There's Life, There's Hope

**Author's Note:**

Thank you so very much for your nominations for this story and its prequel, **Upon A Midnight Clear**for The Highclere Awards. This story really surprised me as it began as a one-shot and has just taken on a whole other life. To try something new is always somewhat daunting, and your support and your votes are greatly appreciated.**  
**

**Previously:**

**London, England, September 1918 **

Cora walked away to go fetch the dressmaker.

"Considering what you've gone through to get your groom, choosing a dress should be child's play," Edith whispered.

"You don't know the half of it," Mary said lightly.

"It is so exciting, isn't it, Mary?" Sybil smiled. "It's so close now! Cousin Matthew just needs to come back and you'll be married!"

"Yes, Sybil, it is very exciting," Mary nodded, turning her head and looking at the silk dress laid out before her once again. Her fingers automatically rubbed her engagement ring.

"Matthew just needs to come back," she whispered.

**Chapter 8: Where There's Life, There's Hope **

**Downton Abbey, England, August 1918**

"The Whitmore's have confirmed they'll be at the wedding," Cora smiled, flipping through the response cards.

"The Whitmore's? You invited them?" Mary's eyebrow shot up.

"Of course!" Cora said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Louis Whitmore hates Matthew!" Mary shook her head. "They almost came to blows at Aunt Rosamund's party years ago."

Edith smirked.

"No one ever told me that," Cora said defensively.

"You were there! You heard all about it!" Sybil said incredulously.

"Even I remember that sad episode," Violet huffed. "Louis Whitmore and four of his cronies were taking turns insulting Matthew. The poor boy was actually quite stoic through it all. Remarkably so."

"Really? What did they say?" Cora asked.

"How can you not remember?" Edith rolled her eyes. "They were going on and on about middle class this and Manchester that and finally they asked Cousin Matthew if he was a solicitor or a barrister and when he said solicitor they made some joke about how only real men went to Court."

"To which Cousin Matthew replied that they must have had experience with Court seeing how Louis Whitmore's tails looked like they came from a prison factory," Sybil giggled.

Cora sighed and shook her head.

"Well it was quite a clever response," Edith noted, taking a sip of her tea.

"You won't have to worry about Louis Whitmore being rude to Matthew at your wedding, Mary," Cora said calmly.

"Why not?"

"He died at the Front, in Belgium, last year," Cora replied.

Mary sighed and shook her head.

"There was a time when one only had to worry about whether a guest would turn up and act ill-mannered. Now, one must wonder if any of the guests are still alive to turn up at all," Violet muttered.

"Lady Whitmore and her two daughters will be coming. I believe they have an elderly uncle staying with them, although whether he makes the trip or not is uncertain. If it's too cold, he tends to stay indoors in London and not venture out. Then again, we won't know what weather we'll have, since we still don't know what day the wedding will be yet," Cora said pointedly.

Mary shivered. She glanced around the room, wondering if there was an open window somewhere, but then she remembered it was actually rather warm outside.

"Mama, we're only telling guests to be available during December. You can't expect Mary to know the precise date yet," Sybil declared. "We don't even know when Cousin Matthew will be granted his next leave."

Mary felt a throbbing ache in her right arm. It started near her elbow and seemed to pulse down to her hand. It was a dull repeating sensation, as if someone were poking at her again and again. She frowned.

"Can't Matthew simply ask Alex to release him for a week in December? It is the holidays and he knows he's getting married," Cora replied.

Mary felt a tingling in her hand, tiny electric shocks seeming to start in her palm and fly down to her fingertips.

"It's Major Lewis, Mama," Edith corrected her. "And Cousin Matthew has already called in more favours than most are entitled to."

Mary felt a sharp pain in her arm and her hand flew open reflexively. Her tea cup dropped to the floor with a crash, the porcelain shattering into a hundred pieces.

"Mary!" Cora frowned.

"Mary?" Sybil appeared at her side, her face showing concern.

Mary flexed her fingers. The pain in her arm and hand disappeared.

"I'm so sorry," Mary frowned, looking around the room at her sisters, her Mama and her Granny.

"Mary, dear," Violet said anxiously. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Mary said shakily. "I suddenly felt terribly cold."

**Bapaume, France, August 1918**

Matthew blinked. His vision was cloudy and there was a haze above him. He cringed, sunlight hitting him squarely in the eyes and blinding him momentarily.

Matthew blinked. His ears were ringing. He shook his head side to side, trying to remember where he was and how he got there.

Matthew blinked. He moved his legs slowly and realized he was covered in dirt and loose rock. He bent his knees and kicked his legs and feet free of the filth covering him. He glanced about, seeing his discarded rifle off to his side, and darkness around the border of a circle of light surrounding him.

Matthew blinked. His breath caught as he turned to his left and saw William lying on his back in the dirt. The footman's arms were splayed to his sides, and a red stain covered part of his temple below his helmet.

Matthew blinked. Bile rose in his throat and he turned away from William, turning on to his side and retching violently, his stomach rejecting the small amount of rations he had eaten that morning before the charge.

Matthew blinked. He turned back, sitting up so he could get a better view. He stared for several moments, swallowing again and again to wet his parched throat and willing his gasping breaths to return to normal.

William's legs were pinned beneath a mass of rock and dirt, rays of sun falling upon him from the large hole above them.

Matthew moved to rise and he screamed as a sharp pain lanced through his chest and shoulder. He twisted back to his left and clutched his right arm desperately, grimacing and crying out as the pain became an aching throb across his right side.

Matthew blinked. The tears of pain ebbed as he held himself still. He grunted and stared at his right hand. He flexed his fingers and they responded. He moved his wrist and it seemed normal. He tried to move his arm again.

Matthew groaned loudly and stopped all movement. He felt as though a bayonet was being driven into his shoulder. He grit his teeth and held his arm close to his side, the pain lessening. He swallowed again. He looked to his left and saw William's fallen form lying on the ground. He looked to his right at his arm resting gingerly to his side. He looked up and saw daylight, the pale sky far overhead.

Matthew's head fell back on his shoulders and he closed his eyes.

**Downton Abbey, England, August 1918**

"Milady?" Anna asked. "Are you all right?"

Mary glanced up at her through the reflection in the vanity mirror. She gave her a brave smile and looked back down at her hands.

"I just feel cold," Mary said quietly. "Strangely cold."

Mary had taken a hot bath after spilling her tea in the sitting room. The water was practically scalding, just the way she always liked it, and yet she still felt cold when she came out. Anna was now doing her hair and Mary was entirely disinterested.

"Would you like some tea?" Anna asked, a look of concern on her face.

"No," Mary shook her head. "Just leave my hair down, Anna. We can do something with it before dinner. I'm just going to get some rest until then I think."

"Yes Milady," Anna nodded, brushing out Mary's hair and tying it in a loose braid. The maid bowed and left the room.

Mary rose from her vanity and walked over to her bed. She felt cold, in her feet and hands, and along her shoulders and arms. She was perplexed. It was the middle of the day in August. She got under her blankets and turned on to her side. She reached over to the nightstand and retrieved some of Matthew's letters from the drawer. She opened the latest one and read it again, hoping the thought of him would give her warmth and comfort and stifle this strange sensation she was feeling.

By the time the dressing gong sounded, Mary was napping fitfully. She placed the stack of Matthew's letters back in her drawer and got up out of bed, pulling on the cord for Anna to come up. She ran her hands along her arms, frowning as the strange sensation returned.

Mary felt cold.

**Baupame, France, August 1918**

"I…I don't…I don't know if I can, Sir…" William gasped.

"Stay awake, Mason!" Matthew slapped him on the face. "Stay with me."

"Do you think they'll find us, Sir?"

"Definitely," Matthew nodded. "The French had already broken through the German fortification. They'll secure the area, then go looking for survivors. When we're missed, they'll circle back and discover us. We just need to hang on a bit longer."

William had gone quiet.

"Mason!" Matthew admonished him, slapping him again. "For God's sake, man! Stay with me!"

"Yes, Sir," William struggled.

"Keep talking. Tell me something. Tell me about the first time you knew you loved Daisy," Matthew said, reaching for anything to keep the boy conscious.

Matthew grunted as he pushed the last rock off of William. With only one good arm, he had to prop his chest against the rock and lean into it. Finally he had cleared all of the debris off of the footman's legs, and, breathing deeply to distract him from the nagging throbbing in his shoulder, he sat down next to William.

William blinked several times. His brow creased as he concentrated.

"Come on, Mason," Matthew scolded him, giving a concerned look to the ripped fabric and dark blood stains on William's uniform pants. "You better come up with a good story by the time the wedding rolls around or you'll be in for it."

"I suppose it was last year, Sir," William said. "I was picking up the soup to take upstairs and she slapped me hand and said the ladle was facing the wrong way."

Matthew smiled. "You fell in love with her over a scolding? Just like the fairytales, Mason."

"I knew she was the one for me, Sir. A man needs a woman with a little fire, doesn't he?"

"Yes, Mason," Matthew nodded. "We all could use some of that."

"What about you, Sir?" William grimaced, turning his head slightly to look up at Matthew. "I suppose you and Lady Mary were destined to be together from the start."

Matthew laughed, wincing slightly as the movement caused pain to flare in his shoulder and chest. "That's not exactly what happened, actually."

"It wasn't, Sir?" William asked.

"I'll tell you, Mason, but you must promise to stay with me. If I don't hear you speak up then I'll have to give you a proper beating."

"Yes, Sir."

"We were thrown at each other from the beginning, and that probably delayed things, made things more difficult, to be honest, at least where she was concerned," Matthew began.

"But not for you, Sir?"

"No," Matthew smiled, shaking his head. "No, Mary had me under her spell from the very moment I met her. I think she knew it too. She can be rather smug when armed with a little knowledge."

"Lady Mary must have been awfully sweet that first time you arrived to grab your attention like that, if you don't mind me saying so, Sir," William replied.

"That's all right, Mason. And don't tell her I said so, but no, she wasn't sweet at all. In fact, she was quite put out."

"Did you do something to offend her, Sir?"

"Indeed I did," Matthew nodded. "I made the mistake of saying aloud that I wanted nothing to do with her."

"You didn't, Sir!" William chuckled.

"I put my foot in it quite conclusively, yes," Matthew smirked. "But it was more than that. She was beyond me, Mason," Matthew smiled wistfully. "She was Lady Mary Crawley, with all of the suitors of Society at her feet. The only appeal I could ever have would be as the heir to Downton. And when it was clear she hated me from the off, well I knew my title alone would never be enough to win her regard."

"So you gave up, Sir?"

"Not exactly," Matthew smirked.

"In those early months, Mason, she was always looking somewhere else. She didn't know what she wanted, I don't think, but whoever it was, it wasn't me. She wanted a proper gentleman. I was a middle class lawyer. She wanted someone who loved riding and hunting and playing the games of nobles. I liked football and would rather be at the pub then on a hunt."

William laughed, then coughed several times.

"When she wanted someone thrilling, I was dull. When she wanted someone with mirth and spontaneous comedy, I was serious. When she wanted someone serious, I was flippant. Even were I capable of having the characteristics that she would want, Mason, I was never that man to her. I was her Cousin, her rival, the source of her despair. And that, I thought, was all I ever would be."

"So what did you do, Sir?"

"I asked her to marry me," Matthew chuckled, then touched his chest and cringed.

"We were both foolish, Mason," Matthew shook his head. "We were both stubborn, and young, and didn't give a thought to things like where we would live, whether we could raise children together, whether we had the same views on money and politics and lifestyle and any number of important things that one should discuss with a woman before one proposes marriage. I thought all of it would work itself out later on. And it probably would have. But when she didn't seem entirely sure, I was the one feeling rather put out."

"Then War came," William said softly.

"War did not separate us," Matthew sighed. "That happened earlier. War was a convenient escape. And for two years, I tried to forget Mary, tried to go back to the way things were, when she wasn't interested in me and I didn't think she ever could be. I even went so far as to selfishly pledge myself to another woman to try and forget her."

"So what happened, Sir?" William asked.

"I realized that it was all right to love her, Mason," Matthew beamed. "It was all right to embrace it, and revel in it, and enjoy it. Even when she was far away, even when she had someone else, even when it seemed we would just be cousins for the rest of our lives, I understood finally that it was all right to be in love with her, selflessly, shamefully, embarrassingly in love with Mary. Because ultimately, Mason, you don't love someone just because they love you back. You truly, fully, completely love someone simply because you do."

"And the rest is history, Sir," William smiled.

"Not yet," Matthew looked at the footman. "But soon. Soon enough."

"You know, Sir, we always knew you would end up together, those of us downstairs, Sir," William said.

"I highly doubt that Carson or O'Brien was my biggest fan, Mason," Matthew smiled.

"Maybe not him, although I think Mr. Carson has taken a shine to you now. He likes anyone that makes Lady Mary smile, I expect," William replied.

"But we could all see it, Sir," William continued. "Even when you'd fight over the dinner table or over drinks in the sitting room. There was something between you, Sir, clear as day."

"And what would that be, Mason?"

"A spark, Sir," William smiled. "We could see it in your eyes when you looked at each other. You and Lady Mary, you talk to each other with your eyes, even when you haven't said a word for hours."

Matthew smiled.

"Two people with that much fire between 'em, well, they can't hate each other forever, can they, Sir?"

"Mason, I don't think that…"

"Captain!" came the call from high above. "Captain!"

Matthew and William looked up. Matthew rose to his feet, staring up at the gap they had fallen through, searching for a face to match the voice he had heard.

"We're down here!" Matthew called back.

"Captain Crawley!" Wakefiled shouted, peering over the edge of the chasm down at them.

"Wakefield!" Matthew yelled happily. "Mason's hurt! Get some bloody rope and get us out of here!"

**Downton Abbey, England, September 1918**

Carson walked briskly into the morning room. He stopped suddenly upon seeing Mary, Edith and Sybil sitting around the table with Lord Grantham.

"Carson?" Robert frowned. "What is it?"

"My Lord, I…" Carson hesitated.

"Carson!" Mary snapped, her eyes wide as she saw the yellow paper in Carson's hand. "Bring it here at once!" she demanded.

Carson swallowed and walked over to them. He handed the yellow telegram toward Mary. Robert reached out and snatched it before she could.

"Papa!" Mary shrieked.

Robert raised his hand to silence her. He opened the telegram and read it.

"It came this morning, My Lord," Carson said uneasily, feeling Mary's stare upon him.

"Who would telegram Mary?" Sybil whispered to Edith.

"It has to be about Cousin Matthew," Edith replied. "He must have listed Mary as…his next of kin."

"What does it say?" Mary asked, frowning at her father.

Robert frowned.

"Good God, Matthew's been injured!" Robert exclaimed.

Mary gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. She rose from her seat and went to her father's side.

Sybil and Edith rose from their seats and came up behind Mary.

"He's alive, but he's been hurt, and it's serious," Robert said.

Mary grabbed the telegram from her father's hands and read it with wide eyes.

Robert looked at his daughters. "He's on his way back. They're sending him to the Village hospital."

"He's alive. Oh, thank God!" Mary sighed, finishing the telegram.

"When will he be here?" Edith asked.

"It doesn't say. The message just came across this morning so he's probably en route. They would have notified us when he came back to England, so he's probably through London by now. He could be here by late afternoon," Robert replied.

Mary rose from the table and walked quickly towards the Great Hall.

"Go with her," Robert looked at Edith and Sybil. They nodded and went after Mary.

"Carson, have Lady Grantham come down as soon as she's ready," Robert said. "And I want Matthew's room spotless and ready for him when he arrives."

"Yes, My Lord," Carson nodded.

"And Carson," Robert said seriously. "Gather the servants and I'll tell them all at once. I don't want any rumours with Mary in such a state."

"Yes, My Lord."

**Downton Village Hospital, Downton Village, England, September 1918**

Matthew wandered aimlessly. He was walking on green grassy hills that seemed to stretch for miles into the horizon. The sky was sunny and blue overhead. He looked down and his uniform was spotless, as if brand new.

He looked back up and his eyes widened. Mary was sitting on her knees, her dress torn, blood stains on her face.

"Mary!" Matthew screamed. He ran towards her.

Mary's eyes were wide. She saw him and her look of relief was replaced by one of fear. She cried out to him in warning.

"Matthew! Behind you!"

Matthew turned, frowning at her words. Faceless German soldiers were bearing down on them, their guns raised, bayonets pointed menacingly at him.

_What were they doing here?_

"Mary!" Matthew yelled, sprinting towards her now, stumbling through the muddy ground below his feet. He heard the enemy behind him, their harsh footfalls loud in his ears.

The sky turned red above him, the sounds of artillery booming overhead and the screams of battle blaring out all around him.

_Mary couldn't be here. She was back home. She was safe. Wasn't she?_

"Mary!" Matthew bellowed, launching himself at her as gunfire and the whines of falling artillery shells rang out.

His vision went black. There was a ringing sound droning in his head. Pain shot through his right side. Excruciating, unending pain, as though his arm were being torn from his body.

_Where was Mary? Did I reach her in time?_

"Mary!" Matthew cried out to the darkness.

"Matthew!" Mary's voice called from somewhere close by. "Matthew, I'm here!"

"Mary!" Matthew screamed again. He couldn't see her. He couldn't see anything.

"Hold him down! Hold him down! A little longer!" a male voice boomed.

_Who the hell was that?_

"Mary!" Matthew called again.

_I have to get her away from here! I have to save her!_

"Darling, calm down! Calm down, Matthew!" Mary said desperately.

"Mary! Run! Get away from here!" Matthew screamed.

"He's burning up! Sybil, how much longer?" Mary asked.

"Almost there," Sybil's voice replied shakily. "He's almost got it!"

_Sybil?_

"Matthew," Mary's voice returned to him. "I'm right here, darling. I'm here. I'm all right. You're safe, Matthew."

_Safe?_

"Mary! Argh!" Matthew roared, pain firing through his body.

"Matthew!" Mary gasped.

Matthew stopped wondering where he was.

Matthew stopped hearing voices.

Matthew stopped reaching out blindly for Mary.

Everything just stopped.

* * *

"Can't you give him anything?" Sybil asked.

"They filled him full of morphine to bring him over here," Dr. Clarkson replied. "Any more and we risk him going into a coma, or worse."

"But you did get it back in, Doctor?" Robert asked.

"Yes, Your Lordship," Dr. Clarkson nodded. "Not as cleanly as I would have liked, but his shoulder has been reset, finally."

"How long will he be like this?" Sybil asked.

"Three months, maybe longer," Dr. Clarkson said. "From what they told me, it's a miracle he even made it back without losing the arm entirely."

Robert frowned. "I want him back at Downton as soon as possible. Once he's fit to travel, send him home."

"Yes, Your Lordship," Dr. Clarkson nodded. "Erm, Your Lordship, it's highly irregular for visitors, even family members, to linger with patients overnight. Might I suggest…"

"Mary can stay as long as she likes, Doctor," Robert said sternly. "She's his fiancée."

Dr. Clarkson nodded reluctantly.

"Sybil, keep us informed."

"Yes, Papa," Sybil said.

The Earl of Grantham turned and walked away.

"I'll come back later," Dr. Clarkson sighed. "I need to take care of an urgent matter for Lady Mary."

"Thank you, Dr. Clarkson," Sybil nodded.

"I didn't do anything," Dr. Clarkson shook his head. "It was your Cousin that did most of the work. And he's got a fair bit more to do, I'm afraid. Keep his temperature down as best you can, and keep that arm immobilized, Nurse Crawley."

"Yes, Doctor," Sybil said, watching as Mary bathed Matthew's forehead with a towel.

* * *

Matthew blinked. He saw darkness, but it was different this time. It wasn't murky and all encompassing. It wasn't a shroud over him, but rather just the colour of night. He could make out ceiling beams and lamps above him. He felt strangely comforted in knowing it was nightfall, or at least a darkened room, that he was in.

Matthew blinked. He heard quiet footsteps somewhere in the distance. He understood the whispers of hushed conversations outside of his room, but could not make out the words.

Matthew blinked. He turned his head to the right and saw his arm was wrapped in bandages and gauze from his wrist up to his shoulder and across his chest. He flexed his fingers. They still moved. He tried to move his arm and found that he could not. The bandages wrapped around him were unyielding. He remembered dimly what happened another time he tried to move his arm and thought it perhaps better that he couldn't. He vaguely could feel a familiar dull ache and throbbing pain in his right side.

Matthew blinked. His left side felt strange as well, not painful, but his left arm was tingling. He flexed his fingers and felt smooth silk. He frowned. Why was he covered in silk blankets? He tried to move his left arm and could not do so. Not because there was pain though. He could not move his left arm because there was a weight upon his side.

Matthew blinked. He turned his head to the left and saw alabaster skin and closed lashes, dark brown hair pulled back into a braid and trailing down across a silk blouse. His eyes wandered lower and he saw a pale hand across his stomach, the sparkle of a diamond betrothal ring glowing faintly in the dull moonlight blinking through a window.

Matthew blinked. He hadn't felt silk blankets after all. He opened his mouth to speak but his throat was dry and his lips were cracked. His voice was tangled in his throat and all he could do was gasp audibly.

Mary's eyes shot open and she raised her head off of his shoulder. Looking down on him, her hair somewhat dishevelled, her eyes wide with alarm and her mouth agape, she never seemed more angelic to him.

"Matthew?" she whispered.

"Mar-" he rasped.

He could not even finish getting her name across his dry lips before her mouth came crashing down upon his. Her hand clutched his hair and her body pressed into him. He felt tears on his face and he was not sure if they were hers or his. His hand went up her back, feeling her warm skin through the silk blouse. Her lips were insistent against his, her tongue darting into his mouth, yearning to remember the taste of him. He pressed back against her, raising his head towards her, filling himself with her scent, her flavour, her heat.

When she pulled back, they were both gasping for air.

"Matthew! Here, here, drink," Mary hissed, reaching for the pitcher on the nightstand and pouring him a glass with shaking hands. She drew him up slightly and fed him the water slowly. Matthew swallowed as if he had gone without water for days.

"Mary," he said gratefully, his voice returned. He pulled her towards him with his left arm and she kissed him firmly, drawing back after several moments despite him clutching at her and trying to regain contact.

"Relax, darling," Mary said calmly. "You're all right. You're back in Yorkshire. You're in the Village Hospital." She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling bravely at him as his eyes tried to focus on her and he took several deep breaths.

"The hospital?" he frowned, then his eyes widened. "Mason! What happened to…"

"Shh," Mary kissed his forehead. "It's all right. Mason was taken to Leeds. Edith and Granny went to get his father. They were there when he arrived, I expect. Papa will have him transferred here in a few days."

"Is he all right?" Matthew asked, his voice very quiet and small.

"He's alive, thanks to you," Mary smiled. "He has a broken leg and several broken ribs, but he's alive."

"Right. He broke his leg from the fall, and they discovered his broken ribs when we got back to base."

Matthew grimaced as pain shot through his right side again. Mary eased him back down on the bed. The pain gradually subsided. Mary leaned against him.

"What time is it?" Matthew asked, blinking several times.

"Well past midnight," Mary replied, looking him over.

"How did you get Clarkson to let you stay?"

"As though he had a choice in the matter? Do you have any other idiotic questions?" Mary huffed.

Matthew chuckled, careful not to move his right arm.

"Besides, I wasn't merely playing the crying fiancée, you know," Mary smirked, caressing his cheek. "I read somewhere that it's very important to not leave soldiers alone when they're first wounded so no sign goes unnoticed. They can't spare a nurse to watch over you, so that's what I volunteered to do. And Clarkson wasn't going to stop me."

"I'm glad you're here. I had the most bizarre visions, as though I was…"

"There will be plenty of time to talk about all of that later," Mary said softly. "You need your rest, and I need to go tell the nurse that you're awake."

"I'm…" Matthew frowned.

"What is it?" Mary whispered.

"I'm not wearing a shirt," Matthew noted.

"Well we couldn't exactly fix your shoulder and arm while you were still dressed in your uniform," she rolled her eyes. "And it didn't seem right to put a nightshirt on you. They'll have to check your bandages in the morning."

"I don't understand," Matthew shook his head. "I got William out of that cave we fell into and back to base. My arm hurt like hell, but I was awake. I remember going into the dressing station with William. They put his leg in a cast. Alex decided to send him back to England and he ordered that I go with him. I got on the train with him and..."

Matthew cringed again as his right side ached.

"The card they sent with you said that you dislocated your shoulder and Dr. Clarkson says you probably tore ligaments in your chest. It's possible the trip back here reaggravated your injuries. When you arrived at the hospital, your shoulder was still dislocated. We don't know anything more than that," Mary said.

"Please, Mary, just…just stay here," Matthew pleaded.

Mary kissed his lips softly.

"Darling, I'll just be out in the hall. I need to tell them you're awake so someone can come look at you," she said soothingly.

"But Clarkson can't be here at this hour. Just lay here with me and someone will come in the morning," he said nervously.

"How about I just open the door and call for someone? You'll see me the entire time. I won't leave your sight," she said.

Matthew nodded slowly.

Mary kissed his forehead and rose from the bed. She frowned as she walked away from him. Making sure she remained in the room in his line of sight, she opened the door and called for a nurse.

"Yes, Lady Mary?" the nurse asked.

"Rouse Dr. Clarkson at once. Tell him that Captain Crawley is awake and he must come see him immediately," Mary commanded.

**Downton Abbey, England, September 1918**

"I think I'm finally getting the hang of this," Sybil smiled, applying a bandage around Matthew's forearm.

"I would hope so. It's been three days that you've been able to practise," Mary smirked, smoothing out a bandage along Matthew's chest.

"I don't think I need either of you to do this," Matthew grumbled. "I'm perfectly capable of handling it on my own."

"With your left hand?" Mary shook her head.

"Stay still, Cousin Matthew," Sybil scolded him. "You don't want to aggravate it further."

"Argh!" Matthew grunted. "Mary!" he glared at her.

"Stay still or this will hurt…a lot," she glared back.

Matthew sighed and did not move until the two Crawley sisters finished re-dressing his arm and shoulder.

"How much longer?" Matthew whined.

"A few days more," Sybil said. "Once you've reached a week, we'll change it out for a sling, but you'll need to do exercises once it's healed enough, otherwise you'll lose all the strength in it."

"Thank you, darling," Mary smiled. "You can go back to your rounds. I'll handle the patient for now."

Sybil nodded and smiled at Matthew. She got up and left.

"I should apologize to Sybil for being so grumpy," Matthew sighed.

"Yes, you should," Mary replied, taking the rolls of bandages and tape and placing them on a side table. She made sure that Matthew's arm was propped sufficiently on top of the pillow at his side to keep his arm immobile.

"Come here," Matthew said softly, looking up at her.

"I need to make sure this is properly set," Mary answered, not looking at him and appraising the new wrappings around his arm.

"It's fine," Matthew said. "It feels just as annoying as the other bandages have."

Mary rolled her eyes, then walked around the bed gracefully before lying down on his left side. Matthew wrapped his arm around her as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"How does it feel?" Mary asked.

"Very nice," Matthew smirked, running his hand along her back and down towards her bottom, his eyes half closed.

"I meant your shoulder!" Mary rolled her eyes at him, reaching back and stilling his hand.

"Better," Matthew said carefully. "Although it's strange to not be able to move it."

"Just for a few more days," Mary said. "You don't want to injure it again. When it's stable enough, then you can move it a bit more."

"I'm not looking forward to those exercises Sybil mentioned. They're probably horribly painful, or boringly repetitive, or both," he said.

Mary turned her head and kissed his lips. "Well I am selfishly thankful that you're back home, regardless of your condition. And if these horrible exercises prevent you from going back over there, then I am all for them."

"If they keep me as your sole charge, then I suppose I may be thankful for them as well."

"You should be," Mary smiled, settling back down against them. "I don't treat all of my patients like this, you know."

"Is that right?" Matthew smirked.

"It is," Mary replied, running her hand along his stomach. "I only share a bed with the very handsome ones."

"Naughty minx," Matthew snarled, reaching his hand up and tickling her side.

"Matthew!" Mary shrieked, laughing involuntarily and glaring at him. "You're not supposed to exert yourself!"

"Then quit teasing me!" Matthew said pointedly.

A firm knock came from the other side of Matthew's bedroom door.

"Whoever that is, get rid of them," Matthew said, his eyes looking at her knowingly. "We're occupied for the afternoon."

Mary got up from the bed. "You aren't supposed to exert yourself!" she said with a raised eyebrow, then went to the door.

Opening the door, Mary nodded to Bates, not the least bit concerned to be found in Matthew's room with the door closed.

Matthew frowned as Mary went out into the hallway. She returned shortly, leaving the door open behind her.

"What was that all about?" Matthew asked as she walked towards him.

"You have a visitor," Mary smiled, leaning over and kissing him quickly.

"I don't want to see Clarkson," Matthew grumbled. "I'd rather have you take care of me, than him."

"I understand, but even I need reinforcements from time to time."

"Who is it then? I thought you sent Sybil back to the wards?"

"I did," Mary nodded cryptically, then walked back towards the door.

He followed her with his eyes, staring at her in confusion.

"Mary? Who is it that's come to..."

Matthew blinked, his eyes going wide in surprise as Mary brought in his visitor. His eyes clouded slightly and he did nothing to stop tears from flowing down his cheeks. He swallowed and mustered a brave smile, looking first at Mary in silent thanks, then to his guest.

"Mother," Matthew breathed gratefully.


	9. Matthew's Making Such Progress

**Previously:**

**Downton Abbey, England, September 1918 **

"Who is it then? I thought you sent Sybil back to the wards?"

"I did," Mary nodded cryptically, then walked back towards the door.

He followed her with his eyes, staring at her in confusion.

Matthew blinked, his eyes going wide in surprise as Mary brought in his visitor. His eyes clouded slightly and he did nothing to stop tears from flowing down his cheeks. He swallowed and mustered a brave smile for his guest.

"Mother," Matthew breathed gratefully.

**Chapter 9: Matthew's Making Such Progress**

**Downton Abbey, England, September 1918**

"We were behind the French," Matthew said quietly, his eyes looking down at his hands, his brow creased in concentration. "The Germans weren't fighting back, at least not particularly vigorously. The plan called for the French to drive a wedge through the enemy line, and for us to come in behind. That trench of theirs was supposed to be impregnable, but it melted like butter in front of us."

Isobel nodded patiently.

Mary looked at him with concern.

"I sent Wakefield and half the men to the right flank, and I kept William with me in the centre. There was a gradual rise, and we could see the French in the distance. I knew the route was safe because they had just come through. There were tracks…the marks from the tank treads in the mud," he said, glancing from his hands up to his Mother, then back down again.

"Go on, Matthew," Isobel said.

"I…I don't know what happened after that," he blinked several times. "I just remember waking up and I was covered in dirt, and William…"

"Yes?" Isobel asked.

"He wasn't moving," Matthew whispered.

"I think that's enough for now," Isobel smiled, patting her son's hand. "The details will come, and even if they don't right away, it's no bother. You're here and you're safe, and that's what matters."

Matthew nodded slowly.

"Well, I've got to go look in on Dr. Clarkson," Isobel declared, rising to her feet. "I'll see you at dinner, Matthew." She leaned over and kissed his face, running her hand through his hair before turning to go.

"I have to go speak with Sybil," Mary said, rising from her chair.

"You're leaving?" he asked nervously.

"I'll be right back, darling," she nodded. "I just need to make sure she's all right handling my patients."

Matthew nodded grudgingly.

"It's only fair, Matthew," Mary smiled. "If I'm to take care of you, and only you, from now on, I need to make sure that those I am leaving behind are provided for."

"Yes, of course," he smiled bravely. "Take as much time as you need, Mary."

Mary walked out with Isobel, closing Matthew's bedroom door behind her.

"He seems all right, doesn't he?" Mary asked carefully as they walked down the hall.

"From what Dr. Clarkson says, it's a wonder he survived with his arm intact. I've seen amputations for soldiers in far better shape than Matthew was in. All of you have done very well. Dr. Clarkson tells me that you and Sybil were instrumental when Matthew was first brought back," Isobel smiled. "You've become quite a nurse since I last saw you, Mary."

"No, no, it's nothing. Sybil's the nurse in this family. She was the one helping," Mary said. "I was just wiping his brow."

"Indeed," Isobel smirked. "And since you were so inconsequential, was it Sybil's name that Matthew was crying out when he was feverish and in shock?"

Mary blushed. "They mentioned that part, did they?"

"They did," Isobel nodded. "I've seen it far too often, Mary. Soldiers crying out for their loved ones while they writhe in pain and agony. There's nothing we can do for them in that condition because we can't give them what they need – the touch and voice of those they hold dear. Do not undersell yourself, Mary. Your being at Matthew's side, and reaching out to him, speaking to him, letting him know you were there, when his shoulder was reset was as crucial as anything Dr. Clarkson did, I assure you."

Mary bit her bottom lip. She was not used to compliments about her nursing skills, particularly from Isobel.

"I'm glad Dr. Clarkson was able to call you back," Mary said.

"I'm grateful that you ordered him to," Isobel said knowingly.

"Of course I did," Mary said quietly. "Matthew needs you. You saw how glad he was to see you."

"Matthew has a fiancée now," Isobel said firmly. "And I am quite sure that he is already in very good hands."

"Thank you," Mary replied. "I know it must have come as a great shock to receive Matthew's letter about our engagement, and I am very moved that you would give us your blessing."

"It is quite easy to approve of something that we've all been waiting years to see," Isobel smiled.

Mary stopped in her tracks and blinked several times in surprise.

"Carry on, Mary," Isobel smirked. "I'll see both of you later."

Mary shook her head in wonder as Isobel walked gracefully downstairs and out the front door to the waiting motor.

* * *

Matthew wandered through the library. He scanned the shelves looking for some distraction. He wasn't feeling cynical enough for Dickens, nor motivated enough for Shakespeare. He furrowed his brow, not quite knowing what he wanted to read.

"Matthew Crawley," a voice sneered. "Always looking to burrow your nose in a book instead of going out into the world like a real man."

Matthew turned and gasped at his visitor. His eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin.

"Sir Richard," he spat. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Richard laughed. "What are you doing here is a far better question."

"This is my family's home," Matthew replied coldly. "I have a right to be here. You, on the other hand, are clearly trespassing."

"Am I?" Richard asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Well I can think of no one in this house who would invite you here," Matthew frowned.

"Is that so?" Richard grinned. "Darling, could you come in for a moment?" he called.

To Matthew's shock, Mary walked into the library.

"Yes, Richard, what is it?" Mary asked, running her hand along his shoulder.

"Mary?" Matthew asked.

Mary turned and noticed him for the first time. "Cousin Matthew," she said politely. "How are you?"

"I…"

"Matthew was just looking for a book," Richard said cheerfully. "Well, darling if you're ready, shall we go? The guests should be arriving at Haxby shortly and you should be there to greet them."

"Of course, Richard," Mary nodded.

"Mary!" Matthew called out.

Richard kept walking towards the door. Mary turned and looked back at Matthew.

"Don't act so surprised, Matthew," she smiled. "You couldn't possibly expect me to spend the rest of my life with a cripple could you?"

"But I…"

Matthew looked down at his legs. They were both there, and seemed perfectly normal. Matthew looked back up at Mary in confusion. She looked away from his face and smirked.

Matthew followed the direction of her glance and his eyes widened in horror.

His right arm was gone.

He felt himself swoon.

"Mary!" Matthew cried, bolting upright. He gasped and looked all about him. His bedroom was dark, the fire having died down during the evening. He ran his hand through his sweat soaked hair, taking several deep breaths. He blinked and tried to calm his racing pulse.

Downton Abbey. He was back in his bedroom at Downton Abbey. His mind pieced together reality and his nightmare faded away. He wiggled his toes and moved his legs beneath the blankets. He stared nervously at his right side and saw the familiar shape of his bandaged arm, the sling Sybil had fashioned for him hung loosely to allow him to sleep more comfortably.

Matthew exhaled and lay back, turning the pillow over to a cooler side. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"Mary," he sighed, swallowing as he hoped for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"I don't remember giving you permission to come outside."

Matthew looked up and smiled as Mary approached him. Her hands were crossed in front of her and she wore a mock frown of disapproval on her face. Still he could not help but smile. He knew she would be cross with him, but as she approached, with the blue sky and green fields behind her, he could not help but smile.

"I needed the air," he explained. "Besides, darling, it's just my shoulder and arm that are injured. Both of my legs still work perfectly fine."

"I'll be the judge of what you need," Mary said pointedly, sitting down next to him on their bench. "Do not just go running off. I came to your room just now and found it deserted! Bates had to tell me that he helped you dress and that you'd gone for a walk."

"I'm sorry, darling," Matthew smiled genuinely, putting his left arm around her shoulders. "You're right. I should have asked you to come sit with me on our bench. I'm very pleased that you're here, even if you are scolding me."

"And so you should be," Mary smirked, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "You're under my care now, Captain. If you want something, simply ask."

"Well, in that case, Nurse Crawley," Matthew grinned wickedly.

"Behave yourself!" Mary arched her eyebrow.

"I must say this is not the welcome that I expected from my fiancée upon my return from War," Matthew joked.

"I must say that this is not the condition that I expected to receive my fiancé in upon his return from War," Mary retorted. "But we should count ourselves lucky regardless."

"We certainly should," Matthew agreed, kissing her softly.

They sat together and looked out across the grounds, a light breeze washing over them.

"Are you all right?" Mary asked.

"Of course," Matthew answered. "This sling is a bother, but it's better than having my arm immobilized like before."

"Well watch out, Sybil has an exercise plan ready for you the moment that Dr. Clarkson says you've healed enough," Mary smiled.

"Good God," Matthew rolled his eyes.

"So unless you want to be thrown into Sybil's clutches for all of your recovery, I suggest you stay on my good side," Mary smirked.

"Perhaps you can be convinced to take a stroll with me each day, Nurse Crawley?" Matthew asked.

"Perhaps," Mary said indifferently.

"Don't make me beg," Matthew teased.

Mary laughed and snuggled against him. His left arm wrapped around her and she leaned against his shoulder. Matthew was back. He was alive. He was safe. His shoulder would heal, and though it would take months, those were months he would not have to go back to War.

**Downton Abbey, England, October 1918**

"There you are, Sir," Bates said, easing the right side of the suit jacket carefully over Matthew's arm.

"Thank you, Bates," Matthew nodded politely. He shifted his arm in the sling slightly as Bates tied the jacket button together in the front.

"How is your recovery going, Sir?" Bates asked. "It will be a welcome sight to see you at dinner this evening."

Matthew nodded. This was his first proper meal with the family since his return. He had taken trays in his room for most of his meals up until now, as it was more convenient. He expected he would eventually get used to using his left hand to feed himself but he was finding it quite difficult still. He had agreed to go down tonight out of concern for Mary. He knew she had to fend off questions from her parents about his condition on her own and he did not want her to have to sit through that once again.

"Sybil says I need to begin physiotherapy in another week, although I can't say I'm looking forward to it," Matthew said.

"Lady Sybil has proven to be quite the dedicated nurse, Sir," Bates smiled.

"Are you surprised, Bates?" Matthew smirked. "All Crawley women are taskmasters at heart."

Bates smiled and did not comment. Matthew nodded to him and walked out of his dressing room and into the hall.

"Darling," Mary smiled, waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

"Mary," Matthew smiled, kissing her cheek. He made a show of looking at her up and down, causing her to blush. Her blue dress and black gloves were quite fetching, and he noticed that her dress was more form fitting than he was used to. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Mary smiled demurely.

She took his arm and they went downstairs. Crossing the Great Hall, Matthew nodded nervously to the family as they entered the parlour for drinks before dinner.

After finishing his first drink, Matthew settled into his old routine quite easily. He spoke with Sybil and Edith about the goings on in the convalescent home and talked to Robert about some general Estate matters. Cora and Violet kept Mary occupied, but he did not mind. Discussion about the War was strictly avoided, and by the time Mary took his arm to go through to the dining room, his mood was light and relaxed.

Matthew took his seat at the dining table. He smiled as Mary took her seat next to him. He chastised himself for feeling so pleased at such a small gesture. He had sat next to Mary at dinner countless times since his arrival in 1912, and yet it seemed different now. It wasn't a coincidence that they were seated next to each other this time. He didn't need to brace himself for a rebuke or insult. She was wearing his ring. She was smiling at him. He was not required to leave in the following days for a foreign land. He was having dinner with his fiancée and his family, and he was pleased.

"Potatoes, Sir?" a footman asked Matthew.

"Yes," Matthew nodded, smiling tightly at the large serving spoons. "You'll have to serve me, I'm afraid."

"Yes, Sir," The footman replied, spooning the potatoes onto Matthew's plate.

Matthew pursed his lips as he picked up his fork with his left hand and clumsily stabbed at his food.

"Matthew, you're looking very well," Cora said.

Matthew swallowed his food quickly and smiled back at her. "Thank you, Cousin Cora. I have Sybil and Mary to thank for that. They have been very generous in helping with my recovery."

"I would hope so," Robert laughed. "Mary has a vested interest in your health."

"Papa!" Mary rolled her eyes.

"Cousin Matthew will be doing exercises shortly," Sybil smiled. "He'll be out of his sling in no time!"

"That is welcome news," Edith nodded. "Wouldn't you say, Mama?"

"Of course!" Cora beamed.

Matthew picked up his fork again and poked at a piece of broccoli, managing to manoeuvre it into his mouth just before it fell back to his plate.

"I was hoping that now that you're back, we could publish the wedding banns," Cora continued. "With the wedding in December, time is running short."

"Mama, honestly," Mary shook her head.

Matthew quickly swallowed his food. Cora's comment had caught him in mid-chew once again.

"Certainly," he smiled. "I must admit that it will be quite the sight to see my name next to Mary's in the Times. I'm very much looking forward to it."

Mary smiled back at him.

Matthew attempted to slice his piece of roast with the edge of his fork, succeeding in tearing off part of it, then awkwardly raising it to his mouth with his left hand. He set his fork down and took a sip of his wine.

"Are you all right, darling?" Mary whispered, leaning towards him slightly.

"Fine," Matthew smiled back. The last thing he needed was for Mary or someone else to have to cut his food into bite size morsels for him as if he were some…

He shook his head, pushing the word, and the images it conjured from his mind.

* * *

Mercifully, Matthew was able to finish his pudding with minimal effort. Cora took the ladies through, and Matthew smiled gamely as Robert mentioned once again how happy he was to have Matthew back home. Matthew sipped his port and merely nodded.

"Is there any news about Mason?" he asked.

"He's at Leeds Hospital," Robert replied. "I asked Clarkson to have him transferred here but the man is dragging his heels, not surprisingly. He's a stickler for protocol, that one."

"But he's doing better?" Matthew asked.

"From what I understand, yes. Though I expect his recovery will be much longer than yours. You can ask Edith. She's been helping Mason's father stay in touch with the kitchen maid," Robert replied.

"Daisy," Matthew said.

"Yes, that's the one," Robert nodded, sipping his port. "I expect Mason will be here within a week or so. I'm sure he's receiving proper care in Leeds, but what's the point of having a convalescent home here if we cannot ensure that those who are a part of this house cannot be here?"

Matthew nodded, smiling at the Earl's comment. Regardless of any differences Matthew had with Robert's approach and methods, he always had to admit that the Earl was a formidable man when he put his mind to a particular cause.

When they went through, Matthew sat down next to Mary on the sofa and rested back against the cushions. His right shoulder was beginning to throb, a dull ache that seemed to nag on him as the evening wore on. He made polite conversation with those around him, but he remained as still as possible, trying not to wince and give away his rising discomfort.

"Well, I am worn out," Mary declared, rising from the sofa. "I'm going to go up. Matthew, would you please come with me? I need to look at your bandages once more and if I wait any longer I'll fall asleep."

She smiled at him knowingly and Matthew thanked her with his eyes.

"Of course," Matthew nodded, pushing himself up with his left hand.

"I can check on Cousin Matthew later if he wants to stay," Sybil suggested cheerfully.

"Oh, that's quite all right, Sybil, thank you," Matthew smiled gamely. "I'll just head up now I think."

They made their excuses and went upstairs. When they reached his bedroom, Mary marched him into his dressing room and removed his coat.

"Thank you," Matthew sighed as she undid the buttons on his shirt. "I can ring for Bates, you know."

"Forget Bates," Mary huffed. "You're exhausted. I can tell. I'm getting you out of these clothes and into bed right away."

"That sounds delightful," Matthew smiled, his eyes half closed already.

"There will be none of that!" Mary smirked, caressing his cheek, then removing his shirt. "My parents already think I spend too much time with you. How would I explain it to them if you reinjured yourself?"

"You don't think we can be creative enough to work around it?" Matthew teased, stretching his left arm out gratefully. He sat down in a chair and removed his shoes, socks and pants on his own.

"There," he smiled as he came over to her. "All set."

"Get in bed," Mary rolled her eyes, pushing him out the door and towards his bed. "As enticing as you look at the moment, you'll need to get out of that sling before you're ready for anything so…vigorous."

"I'm a soldier, darling," Matthew smiled, sliding under the blankets. "My stamina knows no bounds."

Mary leaned over and kissed him softly. She ran her hand along his cheek as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Go to sleep," she smiled. "You can show me your stamina another night."

"Promise?" Matthew mumbled.

"Promise," Mary said, kissing his forehead.

"Can you stay?" Matthew asked, his eyes closed.

"I have to go ring for Anna and change," Mary said patiently.

"Then come back when you're ready for bed," he said thickly.

"Go to sleep," Mary smiled. "I promise I'll be here when you wake."

"Mmm," Matthew smirked. "I love you, Mary. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Matthew," Mary smiled as she heard his breathing slow down. "I know you do."


End file.
